


Prisoner

by TheHangedMan



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Blow Jobs, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Mild Gore, Monster Dick, Omega Verse, Orgasm Denial, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Sexual Violence, Size Kink, Virginity Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-29 19:31:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 33,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14479626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHangedMan/pseuds/TheHangedMan
Summary: After the events of Paradise Lost, the crew unexpectedly finds themselves in possesion of a dangerous hostage, Belial.





	1. Vice

**Author's Note:**

> This is in no way a portrayal of a healthy relationship. The dynamic is intended to be unhealthy and manipulative. Reader discretion is advised. Tags and relevant characters will be added as they are introduced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of the tags in this fic have been chosen to attempt to warn readers against any possible disturbing content. This fic is more likely dubcon, but to be safe it has been tagged as non con.

This was Gran’s fault, Sandalphon recalled, agitated. 

He needed to have a name and a face in mind to pin the blame on after this. He’d be be hearing each and every painful detail of what he’d gotten Sandalphon into.

A hand snuck it’s way over the fabric of his sash, pressing against his hip, wandering far beyond what was considered decent. He bit back a noise that would have expressed his frustration, rising in the back of his throat. His patience for the long wait was nearly at an end, if silence hadn’t been of utmost importance right now he’d have given back more than a stern swat to stave off the uninvited advances. 

It was becoming difficult to justify the necessity of such irrational circumstances.

A displeased grunt rumbled behind him, reverberating through him originating from his companion’s chest. They were pressed flush together without enough room to do more than breath without knocking into any of the contents of the pantry. If he’d been gifted with more respectable company this would have been no issue; the two of them would have stood quietly in their dark cramped quarters until whoever it was that had almost walked in on them tip toeing through the kitchen past midnight left. 

No such luck. 

His warning had not been taken to heart. The hand was back on his hip hardly even half a heartbeat after it had been pushed off. It snaked its way under his belts to thumb at the waistband of his leggings.

Soft, short pants echoed in his ear sweeping across the back of his neck. This was accompanied by an uncomfortable heat that radiated off of the Primal beast‘s body. He felt like a furnace quickly heating up this enclosed space; where their bodies touched it felt like hot iron.

Despite the very undesirable circumstances with a very undesirable individual, heat of a different sort rose to Sandalphon’s cheeks as his leggings were tugged at insistently. Whether that was the product of anger or the other’s bold action, it was hard for him to say, but he settled on his initial guess. Conceding, even if just by an inch, would do him no good.

Unlike him, who had dignity on the line, Belial seemed unconcerned by the prospect of being found locked together here.

It was infuriating how, since the moment they’d spared him and taken him onto the Grancypher as their hostage, Belial had acted like nothing short of a guest of honor. He was indecent and cocky, always misbehaving no matter the company or his level of peril. He brushed off all personal efforts Sandalphon made to make him feel as though he was their prisoner. 

Why they hadn’t outright done away with him, he couldn’t guess. Belial remained alive based on Lyria’s wishes and Gran’s good graces alone. They had it in their heads that they could help him understand the error of his ways and convince him to help their cause.

A waste of time. If you asked Sandalphon, that was naivety talking.

Yet here he was, recklessly bending over backwards for the two of them while Belial continued to concoct problems seemingly out of thin air.

This time, it had been his Rut.

Caution had been taken in the case that he was lying, they’d waited up until the date he’d given them to act, right up until they could start to smell the shifting changes on him.

The necessity to keep the prisoner away from the others, especially the crew’s omegas, during his rut had become exceedingly clear. He was dangerous enough as it was on his own, armed with only his innate charm spell that they couldn’t trust anyone to watch over him without taking a strong dose of debuff resistors. Even then they had already dealt with two separate incidents. Beatrix had a very close call with nearly unlocking the door of his cell, stopped by a passing Katalina. Azazel had been found, unexplainably inside with him looking dazed but otherwise unharmed. As for what had happened to him, he refused to say.

It had to be some kind of power trip. A reminder that no matter how well they guarded him, he could walk out at anytime. It made their efforts feel pointless, but still, they continued.

Sandalphon could only imagine what a nightmare it would be to deal with his insufferable games on top of the peaked levels of aggressive, entitled, Alpha hormones.

Still, here he was wings folded in tightly against his back, holding his breath, wishing Belial would not will this to go further and expose them. It couldn’t have been a strong sense of duty that had brought him to this point with Belial’s knee shifting against the back of his leg, pressing between them with explicit shamelessness. 

He allows a small warning growl to creep past his lips. It goes unheeded.

The knee pries his thighs apart, forcing its way between them. Then he feels the pressure, rolling against him, grinding into him sending an unexpected spark of stimulation coursing through him. He grits his teeth as the sweat trickles down the back of his neck; how he would love to have the chance to snap Belial’s neck right about now.

No one else would have made it this far, it had to be him.

There were only two people currently in the crew who were strong enough to keep Belial in check, him and Gran. One of them held a large number of people under his protection, inspiring love and loyalty to those he commanded. One of them would have been missed.

And the other was Sandalphon. 

The duty of watching Belial through his cycle had fallen to him after much arguing on his part though little argument to be made. Either of them could have done it, him being a Beta and Gran being human and therefore not subject to their cycles. But it had been clear who was better suited to keep Belial locked down out of sight for the three or so days it took to get past this.

A reclusive, impersonable thing like him, no one would even notice his absence aside from Gran or Lyria, and Gran would deal with her. 

So here he found himself now, sneaking Belial out of his prison cell into his room where he would stay quarantined with the Primal for the next three days. If this was the Creators’ idea of a joke, he hardly found it funny.

The sound of rushing water met his ears, presumably from the kitchen faucet. Where they were hidden, crammed inside the ship’s well stocked pantry, he didn’t have a clear line of sight to the sink. The only source of light filtered in from a one inch by one inch round hole, presumably once a knot in the aging wood that had fallen out over time. It rested a little above his eye level giving him a good view of the cabinets but nothing else.

The only way he had identified the individual was by her particularly delicate high pitched yawn. 

Of all the times to get a drink of water, Io, 2 am. 

Despite the circumstances, his one saving grace was that Io was a human. She therefore lacked the sensitive nose the other three races and primals were born with. 

She couldn’t smell the pheromones rolling off of Belial, the salt of the sweat dripping down Sandalphon, or the reek of their combined arousal.

He was hard; regrettably so. There was no way Belial hadn’t noticed it yet.

He grabbed a shelf for support as Belial changed angles, rolling his thigh back against Sandalphon with gentle but direct force. 

If what he’d done before had resulted in a spark, this newer feeling jolted through Sandalphon like powerful volt of electricity. It conducted through his body, arching his back as his thoughts momentarily short circuited.

Before he could stifle it, a noise like a whimper welled up from the back of his throat, escaping strangled through his teeth. 

“Cute.” Belial crooned against his ear, voice low and musical, encouraged onward by the response. “Don’t pretend you’re not enjoying this.” 

Sandalphon’s grip against the shelf tightened helplessly. He wanted to yell as the blood rushed to his face, but it was all he could do to cover his mouth just to choke back another pathetic noise from the continued onslaught.

He hated this. Hated how he thought this was exciting.

Belial leaned further down into him, heedless of the danger. Muscular arms embraced Sandalphon tightly, compressing the six folded wings against his back and locking him in his place on the Fallen Primarch’s thigh. He struggled weakly, but was denied a moment of respite. 

He needed to calm down. Breathing in the stifling hot air did nothing to stop the closet around him from closing in on him. 

The hands wrapped around him grasped for whatever they could reach as lips grazed against the side of his neck. 

His eyelids drooped and his knees buckled pulling him into the full force of the thrusts. He rolled his head back biting down on the thin skin of his knuckles, drawing blood. 

Then a strange sound caught his attention, bringing him back to the reality of the situation at hand. A quiet scraping of metal against wood, timed almost insync with Belial’s movements. His eyes fluttered back open, suddenly alert in the darkness frantically for the cause. 

A can sat teetering on the edge of a shelf near Belial’s waist, one of his hanging belts hooked around it, pulling it closer and closer to an inevitable plummet with every movement.

Panic filled his blood as he struggled against the powerful grip constricting him. He managed to wriggle an arm free before the encircling arms tightened around his chest possessively. He shot it back in desperate abandon snatching the tipping container with reckless reflexes.

Then, there was silence.

At some point, the water had shut off. How long ago, he didn’t know. He froze, the can in one hand and an expression like a hunted animal plastered across his face.

Drip, drip, drip. 

The sound of falling water echoed quietly through the room.

A moment passed, and then another. Even Belial didn’t move, his arms’ captive grip loosening. 

His heart pounded in his chest like a small, trapped and desperate hummingbird, beating at the cage of his ribs, struggling to be free.

The silence continued.

Sandalphon heard again a huge yawn from outside, breaking the uneasy standstill. The miraculous sound of footsteps followed after it, trailing away from them, quieter and quieter. 

They waited.

Six, seven, eight… He counted the steps in his head until he could be sure that they had carried Io far away, out of earshot of the two of them.

Even still he stayed in his place timing shallow breaths with the steady drip of the faucet.

Drip, drip, drip.

When the footsteps had finally faded out to a comfortable distance, he exhaled deeply and then filled his lungs moving the stagnant air through the dead space in his chest cavity out and replacing it with fresh air. He allowed the relief he’d held at bay to wash over his body; he was in the clear.

With a moment of luck on his side, he pushed out of Belial’s distracted grasp with a powerful burst of strength. He was more than thrilled to finally have the luxury of putting space between the two of them. With shaky hands, he threw open the pantry doors sucking in the cool night air. 

His pupils constricted as they adjusted to the brighter moonlit room. He finally had his moment to center his head, to let himself stabilize. The powerful scent of an alpha in heat still swirled around him, but at least now it was diluted with other competing scents. The air no longer felt thick in his lungs.

The insistent throbbing between his legs was also beginning to abate. He grimaced at the thought of it. Was he really so weak willed? Had Io not left at that moment he might have actually- No, it was better not to consider possibilities. 

He took him a moment longer before he turned back to acknowledge Belial.

Sure enough the demon himself was, at a leisurely pace, following right behind him, striding out of the cramped pantry. The smug expression on his face betrayed no hint of the turmoil that had just ensued. 

“Mmm, exciting, wasn’t it?” He purred in a low voice as he straightened out his disheveled blazer. “Shall we continue?” A foot shuffled forward in his direction, pointedly.

“Pull something else like that and I’ll put you back in pieces.” Sandalphon hissed through clenched teeth. He could do it. He could drag Belial back to his cell and slam the door.

But no, he really couldn’t. The threat was empty. Even if Belial had half his wits he would have sensed that. 

He was too dangerous to be around the others in this unpredictable state; he’d made it clear that he didn’t mind playing dirty, if it meant getting what he wanted. They’d worked so hard to keep him under lock and key, sparing no ounce of caution. He wasn’t going to screw it all up here by letting one weaker member of the crew fall.

It would just take one of them under a charm spell while Belial, fallen primarch of cunning, was at peak desperation.

He only trusted himself to see this watch through.

“Now we’re talking, I love this foreplay.” Belial reached out with a groping hand in his direction. His eyes flashed greedily. All it took was a calculated quick strike to fend him off. 

He had grown tired of Belial’s game.

Too much time was being wasted here, they needed to get to someplace where they wouldn’t be caught. He needed to get Belial out of here, now.

He squared his shoulders and straightened his back trying to make himself seem larger and more imposing than he felt. His eyes locked with Belial’s, burning with an air of intensity before he opened his mouth. 

“Keep moving.” 

It was a command woven together with all the authority he could muster. A direct command. One that couldn’t be ignored then pushed aside even by Belial.

He had to be acknowledged or challenged.

It was said to be near suicidal for an omega or beta to directly challenge an alpha. That was not taking into account a rut, when aggression was at its peak. Either great stupidity or incredible bravery was required. In Sandalphon’s case, even with the commanding aura of the Supreme Primarch, it was likely the former by fault of urgency.

Consequences be damned, he would not be caught here.

Belial’s head cocked to the side. A note of surprise colored his visage followed by a creasing between his eyebrows. The morphing expression painted a picture of some incomprehensible internal struggle; his eyes narrowed and the corner of his mouth twitched downward. 

The raw waves of displeasure began to radiate off of him. 

His smell had changed. It had a new, sharper quality to it, intended to warn and inspire fear in creatures with less willpower than the Primal. Thankfully, lesser than him.

There was something strangely grounding about the response. It was so familiar, so animal, something he had observed many times among the other crew member’s alphas. His natural born position of superiority was put into question. It was something even a devil like himself couldn’t help but feel.

He held the challenge, unblinking. His wings spread out menacingly, feathers bristling to give him every ounce of size the could muster. All it would take would be a moment of uncertainty, a bat of the eye or a change in his breathing and his position of authority could be jeopardized. 

Then, Belial’s face twisted into an unreadable expression, hands clenching and unclenching. He shifted a foot out, toward Sandalphon, moving in the corner of his eye. A test, he identified it quickly, refusing to take the bait with his eyes.

A second uncomfortable quiet filled the room. 

Then, without so much as a side glance or a clear moment of decision, Belial relented. His posture relaxed and his lips split into a satisfied grin. 

“By all means, after you.” He waved his hand forward as if moments ago he had not been the catalyst exacerbating their risky progress forward. 

Sandalphon exhaled slowly, careful to make no sudden movements. “No, you first. I’m not letting you out of my sight.” He motioned fluidly to the kitchen door.

He half expected some sort of snide comment or crude jab, but he received none. “As you wish.” Belial relaxed his posture and obediently followed where he had been directed.

Sandalphon’s nostrils flared as he walked past. Despite the submission, Belial’s scent had not shifted. The sharp burning smell of building animosity lingered in the air around him, mingling with the heavy smell of his rut.

It was unsettling.

Before now, he’d never seen a rut or a heat in any vicinity. Now he was experiencing one far too close for his liking. Of course he had read about them in books during his earlier purposeless years with Lucifer, but this, reading could not have prepared him for.

The need, the absolute desperation, while these were things normally very present in Belial specifically, there was an urgent quality to it. That, however, did not explain this non-textbook behavior.

His eyes flashed over Belial as the two of them walked out of the side door onto the deck of the ship. He caught a handful of the fur pelt Belial wore tucked over his shoulder, holding him back as he scanned the deck to be absolutely certain for the hundredth time that night that they were still alone. Aside from Io, they had been, and Sandalphon assumed she had long wandered back off to bed. They were almost done, he needed to stay level headed until they were finally in the clear.

“Right,” he directed, releasing Belial.

The Primal made no sound, but heeded the direction.

Sandalphon was a beta, like Lucifer before him and the other Primals. They were created with the intent to be calm and rational, meant to observe and govern without distraction. He could not be driven to near madness by a cycle of heats or ruts like other races might be subject to. While he was far from the perfect being the Astrals had created Lucifer to be, even a failed, emotion-driven spare like him shared this. 

This kind of animal behavior was below him, though apparently, not below an abnormality like Belial.

Their footsteps fell almost noiselessly against the wooden deck of the ship. He couldn’t tear his gaze off of Belial, uncertain of the reason for his sudden cooperation. It was beginning to be worrying.

He didn’t like how unpredictable this situation was.

The defiant smell presumably still drifted off of him, but now it blew past, snatched away by a strong gust that blew out from the halls beyond. It pulled the scent away for now, rushing against him ruffling his feathers and whipping at his hair. 

The muscles in his chest tightened. Had Lucifer been here, this situation would have never happened. 

No, he corrected himself, if Lucifer had still been supreme primarch, nothing would have been done about Belial. He would have sat unmoving from his throne in Canaan, watching the events of the world spin by as he always had. Never involved, never going against the purpose given to him by the very man who he had killed, who’s legacy had eventually, in turn, killed him. Not just this situation, many things would have been different.

But to have Lucifer alive again, Sandalphon would have dealt with his irritations and a hundred more. He never asked for these pure white wings.

They still don’t feel like his own wings; too big, too heavy. He feels off balance when he walks, like he’s being pulled backwards.

They rounded a final corner, the final stretch to Sandalphon’s room, and at once the covered hallway opened up to the vast night sky. A powerful wind whipped up, unobstructed, along the metal walkway blowing angrily past the two of them. The only thing standing between the deck and unfathomable miles below was a sturdy wooden railing that ran along edge of the ship’s walkway.

Instantly, he realized his mistake as relaxed wings snapped backward like six huge, white sails billowing off a sky ship. He was caught, managing only a small yelp before he was dragged backward off the side of the ship.

His mind raced, his wings strained, but he was helpless to stop himself.

Then he jolted to a stop, tethered to the ship by only his arm caught onto something. A powerful hand held his wrist in its grasp, his life line back to the ship. 

Belial, he registers, before taking advantage of the help and flinging out his arms to grab the railing, stopping him completely. He fights against the whirlwind to fold up his wings, layering them on top of one another awkwardly until every one of them presses into his back tightly. 

“Why?” He gasped out, shaken by the shock of the few quick seconds. 

“Why what? Why did I grab you?” Belial practically shouted back over the roaring winds around them.

“You could have escaped?” Sandalphon returned with equal volume. At least out here, no one would hear the two of them over the roaring air currents.

“And miss out on all the wonderful time we’re going to spend together? I think not.” His expression exuded mocking sincerity. Belial let out a visible, but inaudible, sigh and gave him a curious look. “This isn’t a good place to have your wings out, you know.”

“I know.” He snapped back.

“...and? Are you going to wish them away?” He jabs back, face unreadable, eyes concerningly still dilated. 

“I-“ He stumbled over his words. “I can’t. At least not now.” He looks down, feeling foolish. Since the wings had been thrusted on him, he’d had trouble getting them to manifest or unmanifest at his command. They stayed past when they were needed and got in the way at best, at worst they wouldn’t appear at all when called for.

Belial shrugged, not interested in pushing him any further when speaking here was such a difficulty. He turned around and continued his march.

No change in his odd demeanor at least, Sandalphon noted to himself. Maybe the cold night air had done him some good, but that was wishful thinking. He was the Primarch of cunning after all.

He strode on in front of Sandalphon slouched forward with hands buried deep in his pants pockets. Even hunched over, he was tall, well over the six foot mark. Despite the heels on his own boots, he hardly came up past Belial’s collar bone. The man was broad, built powerfully; Sandalphon would be severely outmatched if it came down to a match of pure physical strength.

At least while he lacked there, he could even the playing field by calling on his new innate primarchal capabilities.

If Belial was smart, he wouldn’t push him to that point. Unfortunately, Belial did nothing but push.

His face burned at the sudden recollection of Belial hands on him, pinning him down all too easily. He’d wound him up like a toy, until his head spun and he’d been ready to give himself up. What would have happened if he’d pushed further? If things had continued on longer? What if that can hadn’t fell by some stroke of luck, breaking him from his delusions?

No, no, no.

Io would have found him in a compromising situation with a man who was supposed to be locked up down in the brig. He couldn’t have- wouldn’t have risked it.

Risked it?

Belial stopped abruptly, glancing up at the nameplate of a door they passed then turned back, breaking him from his stream of thoughts. 

His eyes caught Sandalphon’s expression and his eyes narrowed playfully. “Looking me up and down like I’m a piece of meat? Have you changed your mind about,” He paused to brush a bony hand against his visible hip, a sly grin playing on his lips, “Partaking in the main course?”

“And here we were finally having a moment of silence,” Sandalphon grumbled. It seemed as though he had been wrong to worry about the shift in demeanor, it had only been a passing respite from his usual self. 

He looked up at the door and recognized the nameplate Gran had installed for him. They had arrived at his room.

Belial slid closer to him, hulking over him with his broad chest, “I am trying sooo hard to be on my best behavior, but there you go again dangling yourself in front of me. You don’t have to keep up appearances of piety for me. I would much prefer to entertain your carnal side.”

He understood it now, Belial was a predator, only pushing his prey as far as it would go before backing off only to push again, harder than before. A predator capable of so much yet so little self control.

He fumbled for his key, praying the Belial wouldn’t take a step closer and smell the doubts racing though his mind. His hands found the small, sturdy built key, weighted with a heavy metal bar. He fit the key into the lock clumsily, turning it sharply until the soft click of the mechanism unlocking reached his ears. 

He stumbled inside, relieved to finally be done with the arduous trek. Belial followed close behind him, still leering at Sandalphon as he stepped out of the way of the slamming entryway. 

He made quick work of the door, locking it from the inside and then bolting it for safe measure. His eyes darted to the third and final lock hesitantly, before he turned it as well. One would have been enough to keep any of the crew members out without permission, but the others made him feel a little better at least. He exhaled, letting the relief wash over him.

Then as a final relinquishment of his freedom, he slid the weighted key under the door. Gran would be by minutes from now to pick it up. It was assurance that Belial would not try and take it from him to escape before he slipped fully into his maddening cycle.

Though now that he thought about the previous chances, maybe escape was not Belial’s intention at all.

The relief lasted only long enough for him to breath. Before he could react, rough hands were upon him deftly unfastening the closures on his chest armor from behind. The hardened leather fell away from him, tumbling to the ground stiffly. 

He could smell Belial’s arousal, his pheromones, and he felt the heat again. It pressed into his back scorching against his skin.


	2. Transgression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandalphon has a regret or two about things, but he’s horny.

His armor clattered against the hardwood floor, tumbling away from the two of them upon impact. A finger threaded its way between his arm and the buckle that held his pauldron in place, pulling at it till it loosened and slid from his shoulder. 

As a hand reached for his other pauldron, he reacted on instinct, spinning on his heels to face Belial.

There, he saw the split second of hesitation as the attacker’s eyes opened wide and his hand drew back in surprise. He saw his chance and lunged. 

His lithe form shot forward, lashing out with an alarming burst of speed. Belial wasn’t prepared for it. Their bodies collided and Sandalphon felt the air rush out of the primal’s lungs as his back slammed against the closest wall. Wood splintered around the impact site, but the wall held strong.

With the short daze settling over Belial, Sandalphon moved quickly. He pinned an arm down to the wall, twisting it as he went. His other hand shot upward to dig into the soft skin at Belial’s neck. He was warm, too warm.

“Don’t get the wrong idea-” He growled out feeling far less threatening than he intended to while craning his neck to look up at Belial. His grip tightened on the primal beast’s throat past the point of assured comfort. “-about how this is going to go.”

He held his grip against the heaving breaths that fought to suck air back into Belial’s lungs. It would be so much easier to just kill him now and be done with it. Could Gran really blame him if he came back with a corpse?

“You’re here because I allow it. You will not touch me without permission.” His eyes flashed dangerously. 

There was a moment of silence before Belial collected himself enough to respond. “You really know how to treat a man.” He choked out, with a forced smile.

Sandalphon tightened his grip.

He didn’t struggle. Instead, a noise like a strangled moan wheezed out from Belial as he closed his eyes as if to savor the situation. Drool leaked out of the corner of his mouth from the saliva pooling within. His body leaned forward, melting into Sandalphon’s merciless hold, his free hand straying down his jerking hips. 

Wanton enthusiasm colored his movements.

Sandalphon flinched back at the shameless display, withdrawing his grip in favor of a putting distance between whatever that was. He fell backward a few steps, landing lightly on the heels of his feet.

“What’s wrong with you!?”

“So much more than you could know.” There was a prideful air to his words as he slumped back against the wall. He massaged the angry red marks that striped across his throat.

“Betas really are the best,” Belial mused with a hoarse voice, “so defiant, but not too power hungry that they won’t relent to someone stronger. You never know what to expect with them. Maybe not as much natural allure as an Omega, but they don’t take anything lying down if you know what I mean. Plus there’s the added bonus of no strings attached.” He sighed almost dreamily to punctuate the end, fluttering his lashes mockingly at Sandalphon.

“You’re disgusting,” Sandalphon spat in his direction. 

“I’ve been called many things, you’ll have to be more creative if you’re looking for a reaction out of me.” Belial tossed back before seemingly losing interest in his position against the wall. He stepped forward, Sandalphon stepped back.

“Is that an invitation for me to give a taste of my own colorful vocabulary? Some Alpha you are.” He snapped back.

“That’s a little better.” Belial responded, “Still I’ve heard this jab before. ‘The Astrals made me broken,’ you see, you’re not the only one, little spare.”

Sandalphon hissed, red coloring his vision. It took everything in his power to hold himself rooted in place.

“Well, unlike you, I don’t begrudge anyone over my lot in life. You’ve got so much pent up rage. It’s all too easy to get you worked up, you know? You should really find a healthier outlet for all of that anger, like I have.” Belial flashed him a cocky, handsome smile. “That being said, I wouldn’t mind being on the receiving end of all of it.”

“When are you going to give up and leave me alone?” 

“After the adorable virgin drops the pure, noble, self sacrificing charade and lets me get him dirty.”

“Just- shut up.” He shot back when nothing better came to mind.

“Who are you saving yourself for now that your dear Lucifer is gone? Or did you promise yourself to him even beyond the grave?”

The words caught him by surprise like a blow to the chest, dragging the air from his lungs. “Don’t you dare talk about him like that.” He spit the words out in Belial’s direction, clenching his knuckles against the anger.

“There you go again,” Belial laughed, his gaze wandering away as if suddenly far more interested in taking in his new surroundings. “It’s almost too easy to tease you.”

Seeing that this discussion was indeed, a losing battle, Sandalphon grunted, promptly ending it. He sulked away from the front of the room over to his desk, kicking out the chair with as much disdain as he could muster before falling down into it. 

Belial seemed to take that as his cue to make himself at home. He paced out away from the wall inspecting the room with seemingly great interest still babbling to himself as he went. It didn’t take too much extra effort to tune him out, he wasn’t in the mood to hear him.

Sandalphon’s eyes traced around the room following Belial as he went.

It was pretty plain for a bedroom, in comparison to some of the other crew members living quarters. He didn’t keep much in the way of decoration, just the bare bone necessities. It was one of the older ones so less had been done for upkeep. The paint peeled in places and he felt the chill more here than anywhere else on the ship, but it was quiet. 

His quarters were far removed from the other occupied ones and out of the way of any gathering spots. He had been very particular about that. Aside from the hum of the engine no sound made by another living creature came anywhere near him.

At most, a dusty old clock had once hung from the wall, but it’s loud ticking had caused him too much irritation during his usual sleepless nights, so Katalina had helped him remove the smashed up remains after a bad one. He’d declined to offer to replace it.

With that gone, due to the lack of windows looking out of his room, there was no true way to judge the passage of time when he holed himself up in here. Hours flew or minutes crawled by, marked only by short escapes outside. If they kitchen’s coffee maker hadn’t been so much better than his he might have never left. That and if he hadn’t felt the need to stretch his wings lest they grown weak from neglect as he had feared his old ones would in Pandemonium. 

He valued his solitude. He preferred the long quiet hours left to his own thoughts to the constant racket of the rest of the crew. 

People were too complicated.

His eyes followed Belial over to the mirror, long ago forgotten, sitting dusty in the corner. A spare bed sheet lay hastily draped over it, obscuring the reflective surface. Belial tugged at it experimentally, pulling a corner free so that he could admire himself for a moment before letting go leaving the mirror only half concealed.

He made a mental note to fix it later once Belial had settled down somewhere. He hated his reflection.

While his instinct would have been to get rid of it as well, Lyria had pouted about the suggestion, so intact and in his room it had stayed. It felt pointless to argue about something so stupid.

Decidedly, the mirror wasn’t of enough interest to keep Belial occupied for more than a few seconds. Like a large dog, eagerly sniffing around a new home, he continued to explore. 

He opened the bathroom door, peeking inside before closing it, then picked up a empty coffee mug on his bedside table, flipping it over before putting it back down. The drawer on his bedside table was rummaged through carefully, almost as if he was searching for something. Something that, seemingly, he did not find, as the drawer was shut again, its contents left in their places.

Sandalphon shifted in his chair, feeling a spark of irritation at the invasion of his privacy. 

Belial mumbled something to himself about the table before he was drawn ever onward to the final leg of his journey. He moved in the direction of Sandalphon’s bed then stopped short seemingly studying it intently for a long moment.

“Not bad. I’ve been on better, but I’m not picky.” The evaluation came out just as he pushed forward again, striding over to the humbly dressed mattress and bedframe. He pushed a hand down into the mattress, testing it out for something Sandalphon couldn’t begin to guess.

“That’s my bed,” Sandalphon grunted. “Yours is down there.” He pointed to the floor at the side of his bed where a poorly made futon lay.

Belial did not falter in his inspection, making no sign that he’d heard Sandalphons words. “It’s a bit small, it’ll be a tight fit.” 

It dawned on him what he meant. “Y-you’re not thinking about-“ Sandalphon stuttered out horrified.

“Yes I know, we’ll have to break it in a little.”

“You are not doing anything in my bed!” 

Chains may have only been a formality to a prisoner like Belial, and Gran had impressed on Sandalphon time and time again that they would be pointless. Still, at this moment, Sandalphon couldn’t have helped but dream that they’d found something to restrain him before all of this. If he had a say at all in the future, they would be added.

Belial turned back to him with a delighted expression, it was clear he fed off of the acknowledgement, “Then how about in that chair? Or maybe bent over the writing desk? You seem to have a preference for having me pinned against the wall. Although if I had my way, I think it would be a shame to waste this wonderful mirror.”

“I’m not- We’re not-“ Sandalphon tried to force out to no avail.

“You’re expecting me to believe you didn’t invite me into your room, while I was in this erotic state of vulnerability, with every intention of fucking me?” He gave a mocking expression of disappointment before sitting down on the bed and giving a small bounce. Seemingly satisfied with that, he kicked off his shoes and moved to get more comfortable.

He shrugged off the fur pelt, laying it along the headboard of the bed gingerly, making himself right at home. Large bony hands strayed down to the single button that held him at bay and deftly undid the sorry closure. The coat slid off of his shoulders along with a few other vestments leaving his bare chest and shoulders exposed. 

With his mouth opening and closing helplessly, Sandalphon stared at him dumbfounded, unable to find the words to stop this from spinning further out of his control.

His eyes were met with toned muscles and smooth skin, that despite being poorly concealed before, took on a different level of definition with the coat gone. He was huge, in every aspect, Sandalphon noted glancing from his shoulders all the way down to… he averted his eyes before they betrayed him.

“What’s your favorite position? I can be very flexible when I need to be. Do you have any toys? Lube? I didn’t see any in your drawer.” Belial undid the buckles of his belt before drawing them out and setting them on the bedside table. He stretched out onto the mattress, looking far too at home on the narrow bed.

His eyes slid up and down Sandalphon hungrily, searching for some indication of consideration.

Sandalphon crossed his arms and slid down in the wooden chair as far back as he could so that the weight of his back was not pressed against his most superior pair of wings. 

He had a theory. He could surmise a guess that the advances would only last as long as Belial still had the privilege of being in his right mind. He would just have to hold out until...

Belial shrugged at the non-answer. “Do you need some time to warm up before the main event? Probably for the best that you don’t rush into things, I can go for hours on an average day. Well, I’ll just take care of myself until you’re ready. Feel free to watch.”

He let out a small angry noise before tucking his knees into his chest and burying his face into them. As negligent as not watching every one of Belial’s movements would be, his pride had already been wounded in more than one way. He wasn’t sure how he could last through this by being a good watchdog and simultaneously ignoring the ever-pooling heat in the bottom of his stomach. 

It wasn’t fair that he had to be so damn attractive while also being a thorn in his side.

Sounds of shifting sheets met his ears, but he ignored them stubbornly.

The way Belial, Lucifer’s enemy, his enemy, had managed to sweet talk his way out of his cage and into an invitation to Sandalphon’s bed was unfathomable. Yet, against all odds there he lay, brazenly doing the Creators know what. How had he let this happen?

He brushed off his own question. Did it matter how he’d gotten here? He was here, in this situation now. All he could do is deal with the consequences of agreeing. If that meant dragging the futon meant for Belial into the bathroom and sleeping in there, then so be it. 

A moan tore from Belial’s throat and Sandalphon glanced up in time to see the Primal splayed out in an obscene display. He lay, back against his fur pelt, legs spread wide, palming himself through unbuttoned pants.

In Sandalphon’s bed.

His hand worked over the thin fabric of his undergarment, tracing every inch of himself with slow deliberation. His toes curled and muscles flexed, responding so vividly to his own movements.

The gentle roll of his hips against his hand, the way the cords in his neck strained with every shift in stimulation, his lips parted gasping for air to fuel tensed muscles; whether it be out of horror or fascination, Sandalphon found it was impossible to tear his gaze away. 

He wasn’t the only one unable to avert his eyes. Like a predator, Belial watched him with what seemed a twisted form of self-restraint. He worked over himself slowly, carefully, monitoring Sandalphon and reacting to the attention in turn.

As he had said before, this was a display of what Belial was offering. He needed to refuse.

Belial’s hand slid under the waistband of his underwear, playing at the band with what seemed no sense of urgency whatsoever. 

It was maddening.

His eyes followed Belial’s lazy movements, watching captivated, as he tugged teasingly at the undergarment before moving away back up the defined line of his hips. 

Sandalphon felt the frustration sneaking into the back of his mind, and he fought against it to no avail. 

As if spurred onward by those emotions, the fingers were back, pulling down the waistband as if there had never been any hesitation in the first place.

His eyes widened, at least, Sandalphon had been right about one thing if only that. He wasn’t just big, he was huge. The rest, he could not have expected.

There was nothing remotely humanoid about it. His cock stood up, throbbing, leaking a lavender-colored fluid he could only assume was precum. The tip was a dark jet black that faded down along harsh ridges into a subtle purple that dusted a larger mass of skin at the base. 

His knot. Right. He was an Alpha.

“Like what you see?” He slid a hand up to the tip lazily, thumbing at the leaking cum before rubbing it down his length. His hazy eyes slid over him, monitoring for Sandalphon’s reaction.

That couldn’t possibly be natural. Did the other Primarchs’ have something similar? Had Lucifer had-

Sandalphon felt his stomach twist. Why was he even considering the possibility, or letting himself think on the topic?

He watched as a look of smug satisfaction twisted onto Belial’s face. He jerked his head away trying to keep up his failing, pathetic facade of disinterest.

“Don’t you- mmm-“ His words broke off with a low moan as he stroked himself up the entirety of his length. “-want me to make you feel this good?” He groaned, gritting his teeth as his hips jerked into his hand. Precum covered his hand and coated his cock, still dripping out of the head as he went.

Sandalphon swallowed hard, digging his nails into his thigh. The smell of Belial overpowered everything else, filling the room like a thick smoke. It was driving him mad, every cell in his body screamed to just give in.

Belial squeezed his eyes shut, leaning into the soft fur behind himself, straining against his own touch. “I’ll break you, make you scream my name. Use me, if you prefer to-“ His voice broke and the rest came out in incoherent gasps. The slow controlled movements took on an erratic quality as he neared his climax. 

Then, muscles seized and a look of euphoria plastered his handsome face. His mouth opened wide forming words, but only small strained noises followed. He spilled out into his hand coloring it with a sickly purple liquid.

Belial sighed, relaxing into the sheets. His eyes opened and slid leisurely away from himself back to Sandalphon. He lifted his hand lazily in his direction, a look of sadistic delight painted on his face.

“Come over here and lick me clean.”

Mortification rushed through Sandalphon. 

“Excuse me.” His voice squeaked, sounding as if it had come from someone else’s mouth. It felt distant, too high, too forced; like it had been unused for years. 

Even if the notion of lapping the cum off of Belial’s hand hadn’t been disgusting to him, he still would have been loath to move from this position. He hugged himself close, praying that he could conceale how visibly needy he’d become. Belial had already brought him this far twice, couldn’t he be content with those victories alone?

“No? Suit yourself.” Then without batting an eyelash, Belial raised his dirtied hand to his mouth and ran his tongue along his knuckles, lapping up the cum with a look of twisted satisfaction. 

Belial finished, dragging his tongue against his palm before flashing a toothy grin. Despite his well concealed attempts appear calm, there was a feral and desperate note to his movements. He couldn’t hold his rut at bay forever, could he?

He pulled the waistband of his underwear back up over an already stiffening cock. 

“Did you need another lesson or are you ready to get your hands dirty?”


	3. Glutton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe he hadn’t fully thought this through.

“Did you need another lesson, or are you ready to get your hands dirty?” Belial taunted back at him, an overconfident smirk playing at his lips. He reclined back against the bed, far too familiar with his borrowed perch. 

Sandalphon huffed quietly, the muscles in his legs tensing as if to rise, fighting against rationality. It was all he could do to keep that quietly boiling need in check. He stayed rooted in his spot, leaning towards the words, but holding his ground against them.

“Take off a few layers and come here. That is unless the cute little virgin really does value his purity that much.” The fallen primarch let the last few syllables roll slowly off of his tongue, enunciating each one slowly and clearly. Bony fingers curled, beckoning him forward to the inviting place at his side.

“Stop calling me that.” He stood, abruptly, startled by his own haste. 

Anger, yes, that was a familiar feeling. That was something he could justify.

This was a challenge. 

He stepped forward, feeding his rage, letting it drive him, but the momentum faltered.

Belial truthfully wasn’t far from the mark.

The scent returned to the forefront of his mind again. The smell of Belial, of arousal, of an Alpha. He was so clearly willing, desperate enough to have even a Beta in a practice not meant for them.

If felt like standing behind a rope, observing a world that he was closed off to from outside, his entry barred. 

And why couldn’t he enter into Eden? A part of him now considered it, more than considered it.

There was something exhilarating about the idea of treading upon forbidden grounds. 

Forbidden.

The word stuck in his mind and he turned it over, contemplating it’s nature

The only one forbidding him was himself.

The thought gnawed at him, prodding deeper into him than maybe even the Primal intended to with single minded jeers. He flared his nostrils and breathed out slowly, then back in to clear his lungs and in turn wish the thoughts away from his head.

He felt his fingers wander, moving to toy with the closure on his remaining palduron as he let himself weigh the consequences.

He was the only one holding himself back, no one had denied him this.

Suddenly, shaking hands shot upward, struggled to undo the clasps on the remaining armor. He let it fall to the ground, new found permission chasing his movements. The metal clattered to the floor, likely landing somewhere in the vicinity of the other discarded clothing closely followed by his heels and socks. He didn’t bother to check.

Belial quirked his head, studying Sandalphon as he wordlessly struggled out of his clothes, as if trying to decide if he was being heeded. His normal garrulous nature was held in check as if he knew that a single wrong word could break this fragile whim. Dark red eyes followed clumsy movements betraying nothing.

A heavy silence hung in the air.

Sandalphon fumbled for the last thing he could stand to lose while still maintaining some level of decency, pulling at his hoodie. It came off with a struggle, his wings bending and flexing before he could shake them out of the narrow openings in the back. A flurry of loose down feathers littered the floor around him as he moved forward. 

A mess for another day.

“Is this what you want?” He threw his hoodie at Belial with all of the anger he could feign in his voice to cover up the rush he felt coursing through him.

Belial caught it with a single deft movement, snatching it smoothly out of the air before the wadded up fabric could strike him. A look of satisfaction crossed him as he regarded the heavy outer covering, running a finger over the gold designs thoughtfully. Without another word, he tossed it aside into his own pile of belongings growing at the foot of the bed.

Sandalphon pulled himself up onto the mattress in a sudden burst of reckless abandon that guided him forward; a riptide tearing him away from safe harbors. He swung a leg over Belial to straddle him, sending out a rogue elbow in his haste. 

An accident, of course.

Belial dodged out of the way of the blow, laughing to himself as he ducked. “Impulsive aren’t we?”

The small bed groaned under their combined weight, sagging where Sandalphon landed. His right knee sunk into the soft bedding like quicksand, throwing him off balance, pulling his body in that direction like a strong rope around his waist. Sandalphon felt himself tipping, the momentum threatening to send him toppling sideways off of his bed. He shot his hand out for Belial’s shoulder to steady himself.

Seeing the small panic in Sandalphon’s expression, the primal reacted quickly, leaning after him, reaching over for the angel with quick reflexes. He grabbed on to his narrow hips, wrapping a protective arm around the graceless angel, holding him rooted in place as he leaned dangerously over the edge.

Sandalphon’s world steadied, and the swaying halted all at once as he was cautiously pulled back to safety.

Belial’s hand did not leave him. Whether to assure stability or to take advantage of the mishap, that wasn’t clear. It remained, near still as a statue, a trespasser pushing his luck.

With horror, it dawned on him just which hand it had been that Belial had been touching himself with just minutes before. Sandalphon reacted quickly slapping the sullied hand away.

“That’s disgusting.” He snapped drawing himself away from the contact.

“Aww, you’re no fun,” Belial complained though his tone betrayed no real sense of disappointment. “And after I saved you from a tumble for the second time today. I at least deserve to be allowed to feel you up a bit.”

“Don’t touch me with that hand.” Sandalphon shot back at him. 

“As you wish.” Belial chirped back in mocking tone, his eyes drifting over Sandalphon with crude glint. “So it’s okay if I touch you where I like with my other hand then?” The hand in question began to move, leaving its place balled up in the sheets to grope at Sandalphon. 

A feeling of panic crept up in his chest. He needed to think quickly before control of this was taken away from him again. His mind shifted into overdrive.

What was he doing?

Making a fool of himself, that’s what.

Without prior warning, he took hold of Belial’s face, cupping his cheeks roughly with both hands before locking eyes with the primal drowning out anymore snide remarks and staving off the unwelcome contact with a look of pure intensity. Belial’s mouth drew open, gaping, and Sandalphon was met with a slow waxing look of startled surprise.

He held still under the unexpected grip.

A small victory amongst many failures, but still, it felt good.

But then, Sandalphon too froze, holding the primal’s angular face captured between his hands. Uncertainty replaced the minute victory as the moment dragged on past what felt natural

He hadn’t fully thought this through.

Had he really intended to… to... Despite all of the pushing and prodding it had taken to get him here over Belial, he felt resolve slipping away under his slackening grip.

Sense was beginning to return to Belial. He stirred from his dumbfounded stupor, squirming impatiently beneath. His hand brushed up against Sandalphon’s upper thigh, traveling up, up, up...

This was his only chance, he’d already decided.

Reservations be damned. He was going for it.

He veered forward abruptly, catching the impatient primal off guard. 

Their mouths collided.

He forced them together in a moment of reckless abandon, pushing the primal’s head back with the power of their collision. Stars danced behind Sandalphon’s eyes as something hard slammed into his forehead, he ignored his clumsiness and held his position. He felt Belial’s mouth, still slightly open, soft, relaxed with surprise against his, contort into a grimace. He pushed them together, pressing harder with every passing moment, holding the two of them in place, waiting.

Waiting for something.

He stared forward, wide eyed, trying to read Belial’s expression. Belial returned his gaze, alarm growing in wild eyes. Still he held them, clutching the primal’s chin, holding his breath far past his lung’s initial demand for oxygen, until the scream for air could no longer be ignored. Then he held them past that when he was sure he was going blue in the face and black rimmed his vision. 

An urgent hand tapped at his side; Belial signaling him to break them off.

He pulled away, defeated.

That had felt, awful. Nothing like anyone described it. Maybe he’d done something wrong. 

His attention fell back onto the heaving Belial, gasping for air beneath him. He dropped his hold on the other man quickly, feeling the heat rising to his cheeks.

Breathless, Belial rubbed his own forehead, holding his other hand up in front of himself to block anymore advances. “No more, please.” he gasped in between words. 

There was a long silence before anyone spoke again. The sound of struggling breaths echoed through the quiet room.

Sandalphon rested on his knees, feeling like a scolded dog who had just destroyed a good pair of shoes. He had half a mind to get up and go through with getting comfortable for an extended stay in the bathroom. He shifted uneasily, planning out how he’d tuck his tail between his legs and get on with his shameful retreat.

Belial spoke first. “Now, don’t tell me, that was your first kiss?” 

He waited, as if expecting a response, but was met with the quiet hum of the engine.

“Damn. You’re eager,” He continued, unphased, “I’ll give you that. What a dull life you’ve lived up till this point.”

“I’ve been busy.” He mumbled, confirming the train of thought. 

To be fair, he had been. 

Using his clean hand this time, Belial carefully repositioned it on Sandalphon’s waist. The hand circled around him gently drawing him down till he was seated on the bed in front of Belial’s folded knees. He then slid it up slowly, tracing the shape of each rib over his shirt as he passed them by with the pads of his fingers.

Sandalphon remained silent, but stiffened as the gentle caress grazed over his body. 

“Busy, yes.” He murmured, “But this thin farce of disinterest doesn’t suit you. You give the impression that you can’t decide if you want to look indifferent or desperate. Dearest Lucifer’s repressed influence I take it?”

Sandalphon felt himself bristling, “Don’t bring him into this.”

“Apologies.”

The digits slid past his collar bone, running up the soft skin of his neck until they found their way to his jaw. There they stopped, perched lightly, thumbing at his puffy lower lip. 

“You’re better off starting slow and working your way up to the harder stuff, little dove.” Belial hummed with great amusement, his gaze focusing just below eye level “Here, let me show you.”

Without so much as a slight tensing of muscles for warning, Belial moved on him. 

He didn't’ have enough time to react before his chin was lifted up, craning his neck up to meet him. Their mouths pressed back together, this time with smooth gentle force. Belial straightened, pushed himself over Sandalphon, slowly guiding his head and shoulders back to accommodate the changing positions. 

For the third time that day, he threw his arms out for Belial like a lifeline. He wrapped them around the broader man, clinging to him gracelessly as he careened backwards. His hands brushed against hard knotted scar tissue that slashed its way over the smooth expanse of his back, ringing slits where wings could burst from. 

Belial’s free arm snaked its way down, below folded wings, holding him steady as he went. He seemed to already have forgotten his command.

Sandalphon’s heart thrummed painfully in his chest, his mind raced. A thousand potential threats surfaced, his eyes darted about trying to gain a full bearing on the situation. Nervous doubt from the suddenness remained at the forefront of his thoughts, clouding out his ability to indulge in any of the sensations. 

“Relax, follow my lead.” Belial’s voice hummed as he broke off the kiss, rubbing a soothing circle into Sandalphon’s jaw with the pad of his thumb.

He swallowed hard, he couldn’t help but feel the need for caution. Belial was deceptive with appearances, unpredictable in his nature. It would be unwise to fully let down his guard at any moment even if he was to go through with this.

He turned his head to glance at the door, but he was dragged back into Belial with a strong grip.

Sandalphon was forced to make eye contact. Belial’s pupils dilated far past their normal size, morphing his red iris into mere rings around deep pools of black. They betrayed a deeper predatory longing despite the impressive display of control. “It’s locked.”

“I know that.”

“I can see you thinking too hard, trying to rationalize this. Sometimes, one must simply be…” He paused, pursing his lips thoughtfully for a moment before a sly smile split his face. “Irrational.”

Sandalphon narrowed his eyes in response, “Are you asking me to trust you?”

“No. Never that.” Belial relaxed his grip. “I’m asking you to let yourself enjoy this. Now, are we going to do this, or are you going to keep teasing me with those pouty lips till I come from my imagination?”

Sandalphon shot him the dirtiest look he could manage. He was right, though — aside from Gran, no one knew the two of them were here. He could let himself enjoy this a little.

“Yes, we’re doing this.” He forced out, his voice feeling unnatural as the words left him. “You aren’t going to tell anyone about this or I swear I will make good on my word about throwing you back in your cell.”

“Of course, of course.” Belial muttered, though he didn’t seem to take the threat to heart. “Just think of this as a lesson in… the finer points of intimacy.” He tugged insistently against the other, seeking permission to lock them back together.

Pushing his final anxieties to the back of his mind, Sandalphon relented, relaxing into the embrace. He closed his eyes tightly in mimicry of Belial, letting himself sink fully into the pleasant feelings. 

Belial’s lips were on his again in a third attempt at a kiss, but this time it felt different. They were firm against his, though a little chapped and salty with sweat, but pleasant in their own way. They formed against him, molding to his shape.

It felt nice, he decided tentatively.

There’s something pleasant about it this time. The feeling of warm breath washed over his face, tickleing his skin. His broad chest bore down on him closing him into a warm comforting embrace. The strong arm encircled his waist holding him with an almost possessive grasp, cementing his place there against him. 

It should have bothered a more upright part of him, letting himself be led along by the enemy, his enemy. Like a white rabbit chasing a carrot on a stick.

His better nature remained silent.

Solid muscles shifted and tensed under the Primal’s marked skin. The bulky fibers tugged at his shoulder blade, dragging it back, pulling limb, leading hand, directing the smallest movements of his fingers to delicately dance against Sandalphon’s spine. The movement beckoned him closer, pushing burning bodies flush together. 

The steady beat of the Primal’s heart pounded against ribs ghosting against Sandalphon’s chest, pushing blood through hollow arteries, feeding body, returning spent blood through darkened veins.

The same as him. 

It almost made him feel real; made him seem unlike the monster he was.

Muscles, bones, tendons, arteries, everything as it should be in its right place. It was almost as if he hadn’t seen these arms and legs, muscles and skin, knit themselves back together over bone. Recovering back to himself time and time again like an organic machine built to inflict misery. 

It was disconcerting.

Belial opened his mouth, drawing attention back, prompting Sandalphon to follow suit. He does, hesitantly, finding himself in no hurry to move on. He finds Belial’s tongue pushing into him, slipping past his teeth and sliding over him. 

The sudden taste of Belial meets him and he nearly gasps in surprise. 

It wasn’t bad, no, far from that.

It was like honey wine in his mouth. Strong and sweet, it glided over his tongue, going straight to his head, tasting better and better as time wore on. He drank it in, sending the smell, the taste of an Alpha creeping down his spine, sending commands branching out to his limbs. Relaxation washed over him naturally as his body conformed to meet Belial’s.

However, an unpleasant bitter undertone chased behind the taste, registering vaguely in the back of his mind. He had trouble placing the awful flavor that assaulted the sanctity of other.

No, wait.

That was cum. 

He made a noise of displeasure deep in his throat as he put a name to it. Instinctively, he tried to close his mouth to the further advances. 

Belial’s hand, almost as if in response to the hint of less than satisfaction, disappeared from his waist. It moved to slide up his shirt, dragging up the hem as it went. Cold night air met his exposed chest and he shivered, pushing back into the warmth instinctively. 

A thumb grazed over one of his nipples suddenly, teasing it with a light touch. He squirmed in Belial’s grasp as the delicate stimulation sent him spiraling higher.

He breathed, and the breath he took resonated inside Belial as well.

He gasped, trying to pull back from the contact to clear his head, but no moment of respite from the advances was given. Belial fought against the retreat, pushing back into him, capturing his lips again before they could leave fully. Sandalphon swallowed against Belial and felt the sensation move down his throat into his stomach filling his body with a similar heat. Spit dripped down his chin and he gave in.

Belial’s lips moved slowly against his, with a practiced passion behind every movement. It was as if he were creating art rather than responding to the bestial need that drove him to this place. It left Sandalphon breathless in a different way than his own kiss had, regretful to break apart even to breath. 

This wasn’t so bad.

Belial’s hand began to drift up from his chest, groping at the sides of his ribs and tracing circles into his shoulder blades. “You’re a flighty little thing, everything has to be just so with you, but it looks like you’re starting to let yourself enjoy this.” Belial mouthed the words against his lips and they drifted up to his ears, but he didn’t untangle their meaning rather than to take them as anymore than a small break for oxygen.

An insistent tug pulled at the hem of his shirt, pulling it up over his head. He let it go compliantly, struggling to slip out of it’s tight hold on him. The fabric catches on his wings and he shkes it off with clumsy haste, a product of his mounting desperation to pull back together. 

His arms return back to their place on the Primal’s back, still relying on the support to maintain their position. He feels exposed like this, vulnerable, shivering without the protection. Instinctually, he curls back into Belial’s chest, planting sloppy kisses against his jaw, begging for him to angle his lips back down where he can reach them.

Sandalphon hardly registers the hands on his back, wandering there without due permission, until it begins to knead softly at his own scar tissue at the base of his pure white wings sending a slow dull ache pulsing back through them. 

“What do you think-“ He stops his advances, digging his nails into Belial’s back, “you’re doing.”

He grits his teeth against the unpleasant feeling, a hiss escaping his parted lips, hair bristleing as his body readies itself to respond to the potential threat. His wings flared out brushing up against the bed which sat less than half a foot below him now. A result of Belial’s constant pushing.

Belial however, was back on his mouth biting at his lower lip then pressing a soft kiss to it, chasing the pain with gentle feelings of pleasure.

Sandalphon groaned into the contact, forgiving him yet again of his slight with a seemingly fickle heart. He let one of his arms fall away to support his weight back against the bed on his elbow. He slid the other out to cup against the back of Belial’s neck. 

Belial moved down against his throat, sucking hard at the soft flesh, marking him with sharp teeth that scraped skin leaving throbbing red marks like a war path in their wake. The soft pepper of kisses always followed, smoothing back the hurts as his mouth slid against a large pulsating artery, moving down to his collarbone.

He continued to rub at the hard skin, pressing into scar tissue like digging up old painful memories of a time not long gone. 

Once he had longed for six wings of his own to tear Lucifer from his throne in the sky. 

Now he supposed, he’d gotten his wish.

Strong fingers massaged into the flesh working out old aches and breaking up the marred tissue with practiced touch.

He’s careful, Sandalphon noted, careful not to stray too close to his feathers. Always pushing limits, but never too far as to put this to an end. 

What an ugly, calculating form of selfishness.

There was no warning before knuckles dug in hard to the base of his wing. No warning before the powerful jolt that shot up his spine very nearly short circuiting his brain, sending a strong feeling of warmth following it, coiling between his legs. He arched his back in response and his fingers threading into dug into Belial’s hair, tugging at it as he gasped out wordlessly.

“There!” He finally managed to get out, looking down with wild eyes, desperate to feel whatever that had been again.

Belial dragged his lips down over his chest smiling triumphantly as he went. “Mmm, I thought so. Angels are all built similar.” His voice was low as he pressed his nose into Sandalphon’s sternum, planting a kiss over his pounding heart. 

Sandalphon didn’t bother to let himself dwell on what else his phrasing implied.

His hand worked with far less subtlety as he pushed back into the erogenous zones, kneading the strange pressure points, sending his mind spiraling. His mouth moved over, pressing into a nipple before gently opening his mouth to suck at it. 

Something akin to a strangled moan escaped him as the building sensations stacked on each other, becoming too much to bear in silence. Shame burned hot in his throat as he forced his mouth shut, pressing it down into the top of Belial’s head, squeezing his eyes shut against it.

“What a charming voice.” Belial mused, words reverberating against his heaving chest. “Why hold it back like that? I’d much rather hear you beg.” 

Despite his words, Belial continued his work. He pinched the nipple between his teeth, biting down gently before kissing it softly. He kneading back into him, bringing back the intense euphoric feeling again and again. His body jerked beneath the hands, prisoner to Belial’s whim. He rolled his head back sure he’d pass out from the static rimming the edge of his vision.

Then as stealthily as they had come, the knuckles disappeared, leaving his back void of their touch as fallen one drew himself away. His grasp on the tangled black hair slipped as Belial straightened up onto his knees over Sandalphon, staring down at him with impressive height. 

The dizziness sets in and he slides back down to the bed, shaking as labored breath leaves his lungs. His wings move to accommodate him, stretching out lazily to their full regal wingspan as if to move out of the way. They’re disproportionately large to his small frame, spilling out off the edges off both sides of the bed. 

Another testament to their borrowed nature. 

“You look so good like this, fraying at the seams. What I wouldn’t give to just tear you open.”

Then he’s on top of Sandalphon, on all fours, hulking over him with hands pressed up against the bed framing either side of his head. He presses himself back against the angel’s bent leg, rutting himself roughly against his thigh. Sandalphon feels him, huge and hard, against his tensed muscles. He lets out a long slow breath, meeting Belial’s piercing gaze with wide eyes. 

Gods. He’s in too deep.

He wants him. 

In what way though, he isn’t sure.

He presses his thigh back into Belial and a low a throaty groan rewards the movement. He pulls his knee up to rest between Sandalphon’s legs, giving him teasing pressure in return. The gentle touch feels like torture on him from how painfully hard he’s become. He lifts his hips up to meet Belial, but the fallen one draws himself away just far enough that the self satisfaction doesn’t come. 

He whines pathetically, bucking hips meeting only air, not near enough to satisfy himself. He lets them fall back down, letting his knee drop away from Belial in protest.

Belial’s attention, however, is no longer there. It’s too late before Sandalphon notices the fingers brushing up gently against the bright white sprawling feathers of his relaxed wings. His gaze sweeping over them twisting his face into a curious look. 

Sandalphon feels the growl rumbling in his throat as his mind returns to him. He snatchs Belial’s forearm up in his grip, nails digging into rough skin. “I told you not to touch those.”

Belial expression shifts suddenly, the familiar cocky smile returning. His wrist slackens in Sandalphon’s grasp, “It must have slipped my mind, it won’t happen again.” 

He tightens his hold, unsure if he should let this slide again. There was something about the way he looked at the wings that worried him down to his core. He searched Belial’s face for some sign of insincerity, some indication that he was lying. Cold, empty eyes met his. 

The hold on Belial’s wrist relented and his hand dropped back down to his side. Then, at once, the tension dissipated. The rouge hand swung smoothly down, falling naturally to Sandalphon’s hips like it had never left them. 

He felt the waistband of his leggings lift as Belial’s attention drifted there, as if content to terrorize a completely new target. 

“Why haven’t you taken these off yet?”

Sandalphon looked away and grunting. “You’re still wearing your pants.”

“That can be remedied easily, but is that your only hesitation?” He hooked his index finger into them, watching for a reaction as he tugged at them. 

More excuses sprung to him, but none good enough to convince the Primal otherwise. He bit his lip, feeling as though he was observing the Grand Cypher crash in slow motion. He watched Belial grow increasingly smug at his lack of argument.

The finger caught on the band of his underwear, pulling them down with his leggings at an agonizingly slow and confident speed. They rolled down his hips and he found himself reaching out to catch the band defiently in his clammy hands.

He gritted his teeth, red lightly coloring his cheeks.

How had he let things go this far?

“You act as if you’re not enjoying this; like you didn’t offer yourself up to me so willingly.” Belial pulled down against his grasp, fighting his half hearted attempts.

“Every time you open your mouth I’m one step closer to locking you in the bathroom.” Another empty threat.

Despite his words, he relents, letting the fabric slide out of his grasp. It’s too much to keep eye contact however; he lets his gaze drift down to Belial’s mouth. The tight fabric slides down his thighs, releasing him from its uncomfortable, but still concealing, confines, and then off of his legs. 

Out of the corner of his eye he watches as the clothes join the discarded mess on the floor.

Belial’s lips curl into a delighted grin, “Cute.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m honestly so amused by the amount of “Bless you” comments I’ve gotten like this isn’t going to be the most sinful thing I’ve written in my life. I appriciate all of you support.


	4. Corruption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> will Sandy finally get laid? idk

“Cute.” White teeth flashed as the corners of Belial’s mouth curled with carnal delight.

Yeah, he would think so next to that monster he called a dick. 

“It’s so little, even for a Beta.” The Primal appraised, drawing himself closer.

“It’s not!” Sandalphon snapped back, flustered. His head tilted to the side, drawing his gaze away, off to the far wall where the bathroom door stood. He didn’t want to have to face the mocking expression on Belial’s face. “You have unrealistic expectations.”

He drew his wings drew back to himself, folding them haphazardly over each other as he shrank back under the scrutinizing gaze. It made him feel smaller under the Alpha, less imposing, but the soft cradle of feathers against his spine was a comfort that he sorely needed. If he hadn’t been so intent on keeping his wings outside of Belial’s grasp he would have wrapped himself up in them to block out the unashamed leering.

His predatory gaze reminded him of another place and time, far from here and long ago. Life had been simpler then, black and white seemingly so clear cut. In truth however, the carnivores had always been there, lurking in the shadows. Huge stalking beasts observing their prey as it slowed and fattened on a false sense of security under the guise of friend. 

Blue eyes, clear and cold looked at him obscured, as if from behind frosted glass.

A memory just out of reach of recollection.

No.

That was wrong, it wasn’t that he couldn’t remember, it was that he didn’t want to bring back those memories that he could recall with painfully vivid detail.

Belial’s eyes, though red, narrow and far less mirror like, held the same qualities inside them as he’d beheld in their creator. Calculating, distant, displaying a mastery that betrayed nothing less of himself than he intended to.

Dangerous.

Belial laughed, breaking him out of his train of thought. The sound reverberated around the empty room, chilling him down to his bones. “Unrealistic?” His palm slid against the back of his leg, hooking under his knee with a slow flex of his fingers.

He felt his hair stand on end as Belial nuzzled his face against the side of his bent leg, cheek brushing up against him. Only a fool would allow this to continue knowing what he did about the fallen one. And like a fool, he pushed back into the touch. 

“You really aren’t giving enough credit to someone of my experience level.” Belial whispered, lips dragging against the inside of his knee, placing a soft kiss against the bone before pulling away slowly. “But don’t worry; I like what I see.”

Then, abruptly, the grip around him tightened. Fingers dug into his skin with harsh disregard for his comfort. He pulled sharply against Sandalphon, bare biceps flexing under the strain as he dragged him back. 

“Hey! Stop.” He twisted his body against the change, fighting against the new vulnerable position as he was pulled back till his hips rested in the primal’s lap. He struggled to right himself, propping himself up on his elbows so that he could maintain better leverage. His eyes remained downcast, avoiding Belial’s gaze even as they fought.

Belial’s hands struggled against him, holding his bare legs pinned open around his waist. “Stop?” Belial sneered, leaning over to gawk at every exposed inch of him. “So you don’t want me to do this?” A playful tone snuck into his voice as the hold behind his knee slacked, moving to glide against his skin.

Any future complaint he could have thought of caught in his throat and he stilled as the hand explored him, sliding up between his spread legs. Fingers caressed his inner thighs with delicate touch sparking further feelings in him. The maddening sensation traveled up, adding to the already present painful, needy throbbing that pounded between them.

He burned holes into Belial’s abdomen as he bit his lip.

“Your body is so easy to read, but if I wanted you to be quiet I think I would have preferred to use a gag. It’s your first time with all of this though, so I’ll be a gentleman and treat you.” 

Belial’s whispered words drifted to Sandalphon, tormenting His throat felt dry as he fought to swallow. “I wouldn’t exactly call this position gentlemanly.” He managed to force out, finding some part of himself still held onto his normal snarky nature even here.

But, Belial wasn’t listening. He was far too preoccupied with his own train of thought. “Tell me, explicitly, how do you make yourself feel good?”

He felt a cold sweat break out against his palms at the question. Subconsciously, he squeezed his thighs, trying to shut them to save what dignity he had left. They pressed against Belial’s ribs, helplessly, unable to close.

He could feel the excitement radiating off of Belial as he movements quickened. “You’re making this hard on me? If you don’t answer I’m just going to have to guess and you may not like what I have in mind.” A hand moved to grope at his ass unceremoniously, kneading it with brazen enthusiasm.

He fought to grab the bold arm, anxiety building in his chest. The situation was quickly spiraling far out of his control, tearing what pride he had to shreds. 

Belial shook off the clammy grip easily with a jerking motion. He seemed hardly phased as he continued his assault, doing as he pleased to the angel’s burning body.

The sensation traveled through him like fire in his bloodstream, scorching the rest of his body from the inside out.

Liberties had been taken with him before. Hands on him, touching him, hurting him, fixing him, breaking him. Slender careful fingers that puzzled him back together again after tearing him apart. He came back a little different every time. 

This was reminiscent of those times, the blue eyes bore down on the opaque glass, thinning it, cracking it. 

A feeling of hopelessness crept up his spine, crawling over his skin, searing his flesh and bone.

He was already uncovered, but under those eyes he felt even his core bared naked.

He wanted to hide, to shield himself from the scrutiny. He threw out an arm over his face burying himself in the crook of his elbow as he failed to wriggle out of Belial’s clutches.

If only Belial would just touch him, rip it off like a bandage, maybe then he wouldn’t feel humiliated like this. Maybe he wouldn’t think about things that had been. Instead, of course, the devil continued to run his mouth, dancing in slow purposeful circles, dangling enjoyment just out of reach.

“I never expected to see you like this, even in my best dreams.” His fingertips thrummed expectantly against sensitive skin.

“Sandalphon.” His full name rolled off of Belial’s tongue strangely. It felt awkward, clunky, next to the too familiar ‘Sandy’ the demon normally employed. “Radiant Supreme Primarch, reduced to a nervous quivering mess beneath me, spreading his legs for me oh, so willingly.”

‘Willingly’ was not the word he would have used. ‘Reluctantly’ would have been far more fitting. But, what did it matter about wording? Belial wasn’t wrong. This situation was far-fetched, wrong on more grounds than one. It bothered him that he had allowed himself to be caught in this obvious trap.

“What would Lucifer think?” 

A head of white hair flashed through his mind, the tragically familiar face bursting into being. A stern expression ghosted against a gentle mouth that often would have flashed private smiles, reserved for him alone. He was lanky but graceful, a slight build framed on an imposing stature. 

Radiant, shining, beautiful.

Righteous disapproval lit up those elegant features. 

It wasn’t the first time he’d been subject to it.

Icarus’s wings had melted when he came too close to the brilliance of the sun. The tower of Babel had crumbled in its empty pursuit of godhood. He too had been thrown down into the pit for vainly seeking to conquer the light. 

To fill the dark purposeless void that churned inside his heart with the sunlight he’d so carelessly cast away.

He knew what Lucifer would have thought.

His heart ached. Someone like him wasn’t worthy of those gentle smiles.

“Enough. Get. On. With. It.” Sandalphon hissed out each word from under his arm, feeling some measure of bravery returning with his mounting irritation. 

“Patience is a virtue,” Belial tutted, needling him back. “But, you’re in luck, I’m not exactly the virtuous type.”

It seemed that those had been the key words, because Belial’s wrist moved. The hand disappeared from his inner thigh to ghosted against his cock, taking it all in one hand with a light grip. 

Sandalphon felt his whole body jolt at the direct content. It was so teasing, so delicate, but still the anticipation dissipated all at once beneath the rough skin. He sighed, leaning into the touch as Belial thumbed at the tip, rubbing the dripping pre-cum over the head in an agonizingly slow circle. 

“Now, give me something to go on. Who do you imagine being with when you touch yourself?” Belial crooned, dragging his hand down to the base, twisting against Sandalphon as he went. 

He clutched at the sheets of the bed as his eyes widened at the direct question. “I- I don’t!”

“Sure you don’t.” He took on a vexingly confident tone. “You’ve never thought of anyone that way. So tell me, who’s dripping wet with legs spread wide beneath you? Who’s tight ass are you pounding into?”

He offered up no answer.

“Honestly do I have to guess? Fine, fine, Beatrix? She’s got a cute face and some killer thighs, her tits aren’t bad either. Armor doesn’t leave much to the imaginati-“

“Shut up-“ Sandalphon forced out through heavy breaths. 

“No? Don’t swing that way? Azazel then? His body isn’t bad, a little pale, but those horns look like nice handles. I bet he’d scream if you rode him.”

His mind went blank as images of the crew members flashed through his head one by one, blinking out as they went. He grasped for an answer desperate to find something to appease Belial before he prodded further. 

They all felt wrong.

“The other way around is it? Do you fantasize about being on the receiving end of things?”

“I don’t-“ He fought to get out, but his voice cracked at the end. Belial’s grip tightened, pumping him up and down with more satisfying force than before. He keened under the touch, a thin layer of sweat coating over his body.

Sandalphon felt a noise like stifled squeak escape him as the heat fought against which direction to move, to his face or down to his cock. His hips shook from the effort he exerted to keep them against the bed while red burst over his cheeks and dusted against his shoulders.

The hand on his ass shifted, prying him apart, prodding at him experimentally.

Not like this, not here. The touch felt invasive. 

Wrong.

Sandalphon recoiled at the digit, pulling himself away before Belial could push into him. “Don’t.” He hissed, glancing back with all of the courage he could find to make the point. 

“Oh right, saving yourself for marriage.” Belial muttered dryly, but withdrew his touch, disappointment apparent on his face.

Then, he shifted. The hand on Sandalphon’s ass moved to wrap around his thigh. Belial’s knees spread out beneath him, and the hand working him up to release disappeared, following after the other around his opposite thigh.

“What-“ He squirmed wildly as his hips were lifted into the air, positioned to rest against Belial’s chest, contorting him to a new uncomfortable angle.

His gaze focused on Belial, kneeling, hunched over him. Muscular arms held Sandalphon’s legs captive up on his shoulders preventing any easy method of escape from their scandalous positioning. The Primal’s head rested comfortably inside his thighs, looking far too at home sandwiched between. His face was just centimeters away from his cock, narrowed eyes focused in, eyeing it hungrily. 

He caught Sandalphon’s eye from behind it and grinned, rubbing the side of his nose up against him with a shameless expression on his face. “Any complaints about the new position?” His tongue flicked out of his mouth, wetting his lips in anticipation.

Sandalphon swallowed hard, feeling the hot breath wash over him.

“N-no…” He stumbled on the words.

“Good.” He smiled almost sincerely, patting Sandalphon’s thigh lightly. “Let’s see if you come to regret that when I have you begging under me.”

The tip of his tongue dragged against Sandalphon from base to tip, lapping up the cum that had been smeared against him. Warm saliva mingled with it, setting his nerves ablaze with sensation. 

His lips pressed softly to the tip, kissing it fondly. “You taste incredible.” 

A lie. It had to be. Sandalphon recalled the bitter taste, his face twisting with discomfort at the memory. It didn’t matter, he supposed, not when it felt this good to have his mouth on him. His expression relaxed and he felt the muscles of his body follow the example.

“I don’t know if I can get enough of all those cute faces you keep making.” His lips formed around the tip, sucking at it with a shameless expression. He broke off with an audible pop, smacking his lips together loudly, “I wonder how you’ll look when I finish sucking you off?”

Without any more warning than that, Belial leaned his face forward, burying himself between Sandalphons legs.

A sudden intense heat engulfed him, sucking him in. Immediately his hand shot up over his mouth. His stifled voice rose up past the clenched fingers, as Belial’s cheeks hallowed around him as his tongue slid across his length.

Belial hummed against him, the vibrations resonating through him. He could feel himself teetering precariously, finally drawing close to the release he’d been pushing away and pulling close for hours now. Every movement stacked on top of the next, one after another, building in intensity. Belial’s tongue worked around him in depraved circles, winding him up like a coil of rope, knotted to an anchor, ready to be cast overboard. 

It felt so damn good.

His hands clenched and unclenched, grabbing for the invisible line that would pull him over the edge. 

Below him, he absently felt one of Belial’s hands reappeared, sliding under the small of his back, working at the closure of his own pants. 

If he weren’t this close to release, he’d have put a stop to whatever Belial was doing there. However, he couldn’t find it within himself to care as he climbed higher, swallowing the noises he made back down his throat.

Then it’s there, rubbing against him with smooth ridges, dripping, smearing cum over his spine. He groaned against the contact as Belial’s hand moved beneath him, jerking himself off at an erratic pace, pressing his shape into Sandalphon’s back. If Belial’s mouth hadn’t been otherwise occupied he knew that he would have had something to say about it.

The heat pooled, coiling in the bottom of his stomach, racing to overcome the final hurdle. He tensed, grasping onto that feeling, squeezing his eyes shut.

Then Belial stopped moving. 

His mouth remained in place, but his tongue halted, bringing all stimulation to a stand still. The bubbling heat remained in his abdomen, just a small push away from spilling over. 

Then the grip on his thigh tightened and Belial dug his nails into the soft skin sending pain to block out the bliss. All at once he felt himself falling away from the ecstasy he had been nearing moments before. 

The line swung away, out of his desperate reach.

The hand below him continued as if nothing had happened, keeping the same rhythm despite the neglect elsewhere. Belial watched him with cold amusement as he held him there, near suspended, so close to release, unable to give himself the final push. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Sandalphon gasped out as he felt desperation seize him. He jerked his hips up in a pathetic attempt to free himself, but found he lacked the leverage to do more than wiggle uselessly in place under Belial’s grip.

Belial’s eyes narrowed and sharp canines scraped against Sandalphon in cruel warning. 

Reluctantly he stilled, biting the pained complaints back behind clenched teeth. The promising feeling of near release slipping away entirely, like water through grasping fingers, replaced by the painful teasing standstill he’d become far to accustom to. 

He lay locked in Belial’s intimate embrace, sweat dripping down his brow as their combined body heat covered over him, not letting him fully relax. 

Then, without warning, the mouth began to move again.

Sandalphon gasped as the feeling returned, far faster than before. A hand smoothed itself over his painful thigh with light touch, his mouth sucked gently against his cock. The stimulation built up at an alarming pace, near instantly sending him back dancing near the precipice. 

Belial slowed his movements again before bringing them back to a stop.

“Why?” Sandalphon shot back, tears brimming at the corners of his eyes as his body screamed, heat clawing at him from the inside. The frustration leaked out through his tone.

There was no response, a look of sadistic enjoyment glinted in the demon’s eyes.

Against his back the erratic self indulgent movements sped up, grinding against his spine. With last ditch defiance, he fought to grab onto Belial’s arm to stop him. Like before, he was brushed off all too easily with a chastising shake. 

Belial’s hand broke it’s rhythm as he spilled out over Sandalphon’s back in a perverse display of dominance. The cum coated his ass and lower back, covering him with the hot, tacky liquid. His body shook as pleasure radiated through him, dangling the idea or release just outside of Sandalphon’s reach.

Sandalphon shuddered, feeling the disgust and rage rising in him, but he had difficulty holding onto it as Belial began to move again reading the flexing muscles, and fluctuating changes in Sandalphon’s body in a near maddening rhythm. He drove his tensing muscles to the brink of exhaustion.

“B-Belial,” he finally croaked out through his strained voice, the desperation escaping out through his tone. There was a sudden, pointed stop to all of Belial’s momenments. He pulled his mouth off very nearly grinning.

“Please…” He whimpered, hips trembling. His hand gripped the primal’s knee, and his thighs squeeze his ears prompting him to finish him. 

“What was that?” Belial whispered in a low hoarse tone, his lips puffy and the corners of his eyes watering from exertion.

“Please, let me cum.” He bit his lip, hating the way the words sounded leaving him. He sounded so needy, so desperate.

Well, at this point, he was.

“Now was that so hard?” Belial mused, stroking the outside of his leg fondly. “As you wish.”

Belial didn’t hesitate this time. His head bobbed back down between his legs, pulling him down into the back of his throat.

It was enough to finally bringing him over the edge. The surge of release wracked through his entire body sending his muscles seizing. As the pleasure overtook him and his vision grew hazy, something akin to a scream tore from his lips. 

He felt his lungs burn for air. 

Belial didn’t stop his movements. His tongue continued to work around him, riding him out though the orgasm. He swallowed around him, stroking whatever wasn’t in his mouth with a rough hand that wrapped around the outside of his thigh. 

He heaved for air, feeling himself floating down from the high.

Still Belial continued, even past when he’d finished cumming to the point where he couldn’t tell if it was pain or pleasure he was feeling. The overstimulation grated against him, stacking on top of the pleasure, rubbing against sensitive nerves. 

Finally when it was too much to bear he roughly yanked his hips away from Belial’s head, breaking the contact with far less struggle than he’d anticipated.  
He rolled away, nearly going over the side of the bed again, crumpling into an exhausted heap beside the demon. He lay on his back panting and heaving for breath, a few final spasms radiated throughout his limbs. 

“I see you enjoyed yourself.” Belial leaned over him, triumphantly, running his hand up and down his leg with far too much familiarity. 

The feelings of bliss died down and the strong smell of Belial reached his nose. The Alpha’s smell covered over him and he remembered himself. 

This had not been what he had signed up for.

He lunged forward, pushing himself on top of the primal, grabbing for Belial’s jaw. His fingers dug into the flesh eager to cause damage, to inflict back the hurt that had been done to him. He jerked the man’s head to look at him, eyes burning into him.

“You’re going to pay for that.” He hissed out through clenched teeth, his body still feeling weak and tired, but a fire grew in his core.

Belial reamined still, maintaining his cocky expression, “Am I? What delectable punishment do you have in mind then?”

“You’re horrible.”

He tightens his grip, feeling a rush of adrenaline course through his veins. It felt good to be in control of the situation for once.

“I enjoy a variety of things when the mood strikes, but I think I would much rather see you under me now.”

Sandalphon opened his mouth to speak, to send Belial away, but Belial’s mouth was back on his, kissing him again.

“Mmm-!” He protested through occupied lips as the residual taste of his own cum moved from Belial’s mouth to coated the inside of his. He fought to pull away, breaking off the kiss before he found himself weakening under Belial’s clutches again.

“You have very impressive stamina.” Belial murmured, sprawled out under him. “I’m eager to see if I’ve found a toy to play with that won’t break when things get rough. Let’s take it a step further and find out.” 

“No. I’ve had enough of you doing what you want with me.” Sandalphon’s voice was low, threatening. 

A sharp smell filled his nose causing him to crinkle his nostrils against it. He recognized the dangerous smell, but its warning came too late. 

He had challenged an Alpha and this time he would not be as lucky.

“We’ll see about that.” Faster than he could react, Belial’s hand shot forward, snaking its way up to the nape of his neck. It took hold of him, clutching for dark curly hair. The powerful grip yanked him down off of the Primal back to the mattress beside him. 

The air left his lungs as he slammed against the mattress. He lay there stunned for a moment, head wheeling trying to get a hold of the situation. The ceiling hung before him, a single oil lamp shining brightly from it’s place mounted there. Belial’s smug face returned, blocking out the light, hulking over him. 

The demon was on top of him again, crouching on all fours looking pleased with himself. “Don’t take this the wrong way, I don’t mind you being on top of me, but consider it an unfortunate side effect of my condition. It’s difficult to be on the receiving end.”

He struggled to breathe.

“After this, come back a week or so later and I’ll let you put your hands wherever you like. But it’s getting too difficult to hold myself back, I’ve played your game long enough I think.” His eyes betrayed a hint of greed as they regarded Sandalphon beneath him.

“This isn’t a game. We’re through here.” He fought to push Belial off of himself. “I’m not yours to play with.”

A cold laugh echoed from over him, “But aren’t you? Isn’t it an Alpha’s right to take what he wants?”

A heavy palm planted itself onto his abdomen, pressing down into his stomach, holding him squirming in place. Sandalphon’s eyes darted from side to side, searching in vain for an escape route. His hands fought against the solid limb pushing him down into the mattress.

“Let go of me!” He spat in Belial’s face, kicking up at him with all the power he could muster. He smashed his knee into the side of Belial’s chest, hard. The hollow cavity caved in as he felt a few ribs give way under his blow. 

It should have been enough to make ay man crumple, but Belial was no man.

The fallen one made a pained grunting sound and before a hacking cough followed. Drops of blood, spit, and a hint of bile rained down on Sandalphon’s face, showering his skin with the vile liquid. Blood dripped out of the corner of Belial’s mouth, dribbling down his chin, coating his teeth with the angry red color. 

But he didn’t budge from his place.

He paused to wipe his mouth with his free hand, looking at the blood with a wild look of enjoyment. “Punctured lung, and here I was starting to think you were going to take it lying down. Now we’re having fun.”

Just like that, the bruised flesh under his knee began to push outward as bones and tissue shifted beneath, knitting themselves back together with inhuman speed.

His blood ran cold. For the first time real fear began to creep up from the back of his mind.

“You’re a monster.”

“That’s correct, little Sandy.” He pressed the bloodied hand to Sandalphon’s forehead, brushing a lock of hair away from his eyes. “Though it pains me to do this, it’s time to change strategies. I don’t have enough time for more physical methods of restraining you.”

The hand against his forehead moved back out of the way as Belial pressed into him again, forcing him into another open mouthed kiss. His cold eyes gleamed as Sandalphon met them, vicious hatred returned.

The metallic taste of blood mets his tongue and passed over it, mingling with the various other disgusting tastes that remained. He locked his jaw against the assault, fighting to close his mouth against the advances, but Belial was ahead of him. The hand in his hair yanking back at the curly strands, pulling his neck back, forcibly opening his jaw.

He choked against the intrusion, fighting with gnashing teeth and wild eyes.

Then the taste on his tongue morphed and he felt himself freeze. The sharp taste shifted, growing strong and bitter. He recognized it immediately.

The bitter taste of Lucifer’s coffee. 

His senses filled with warm calming feelings, blocking out the distress from before. A rush of desperation seized him for that person he couldn’t reach, but it melted away quickly along with the bitter taste into something sickly sweet. Near instantaneously, he felt a new heat coiling deep inside him originating from under the hand pressing into him. 

His body was waking up again.

He breathed in deeply around Belial trying to center himself, but the all too familiar haze clouded over his mind. His scent filled his lungs overpowering every other one in the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha tiny dick sandy, enjoy ur blue balls
> 
> (also thank you for almost 100 kudos, you make me feel valid)


	5. Sickness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandalphon has a mid life crisis. Belial gets his dick wet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The particular chapter of the fic was written with an abuser/victim relationship in mind. Some aspects are dub-con, some are non-con, this is not a portrayal of good healthy dynamic. Consent should always be explicit and can be revoked at anytime, intimacy should never be pushed onto someone.

Belial’s hand pressed down onto Sandalphon’s stomach with an open palm, leaning his full weight into the touch as a look deep concentration swirled across his features. From where his hand was planted, a pleasant warmth permeated flesh, blossoming outward from the point to the rest of his body. It flowed through his bloodstream, seeping deep into his cells, bleeding its torridity into his core.

His head spun as it fought against a blissful haze that followed, creeping slowly over his mind. It consumed his thoughts, drawing his focus entirely back into himself.

His limbs felt warm and languid, heavy, but not tired as they had been moments before from exhaustion. They felt weighed down, as if by an unseen force that exerted itself over him drawing away the strength from his limbs. It was difficult to move against it, his reactions felt slow and groggy.

It seemed as though something inside him had shifted. The very foundation of a dam inside him had cracked, holding just barely under the strain of its burden. Its contents leaked out threatening to reveal the aspect of himself he hated. 

A part of him he couldn’t reveal to a man like this.

“Just a little assurance on my end.” Belial breathed out slowly, emptying his lungs of what remaining air they held with a deep fall of his chest. His shoulders slackened as he relaxed his hold on Sandalphon, seemingly no longer afraid of attempted escape for the time being. 

Still he didn’t move from his position over the angel. Their faces remained inches apart, Belial’s lips grazing against his own with every word. 

“You-“ The words caught in Sandalphon’s throat. His mouth felt too full, his tongue seemed too large, swollen and slow. He lay beneath the primal, dumbfounded by his lethargic limbs and the temperature rising inside him. He found himself unable to formulate an explanation for his altered state. 

Lips slid down his neck as Belial planted kisses over old bruises sending a dull ache coursing through his nerves. A new calidity surged through him as, the larger Primal’s hands mapped their way over his body spurred on again by new found freedom in result of the unwilling lackadaisical surrender. “It’s starting to kick in already? Well aren’t you receptive.”

He pulled himself back, his interest wandering after the gentles caresses of his exploring hands. The trail they dragged burned into his skin in the form of a brilliant fire that's warmth traveled straight down, coiling in the pit of his stomach. 

“Receptive to what…?” Sandalphon tried again, pushing back against his nagging subconscious. It was difficult, the dizzying effect of whatever Belial had done to him clouded out his ability to reason, ripping the remainder of his thought away. He opened his mouth again to shoot out some unplanned vulgarity to pull his attention away from the fingertips outlining the protruding bones of his hips, but the word escaped him, again tumbling far out of his grasp. 

It was so hard to hold onto the anger he’d been feeling. The persistent distraction tugged at him gently, entering into the jumbled mess of his thoughts, leaving him so he could do nothing but focus on it. 

He gazed up at the imposing figure of Belial, brows knitted together, mouth agape, at a loss for words. 

The demon quirked his head to the side, seemingly content with the wordless response, “Mmm, I’m captivating aren’t I? Don’t worry, it’s just a little something to slow you down and get you in the right mindset.”

Sandalphon closed his mouth, shooting him a look of mortified disbelief. 

What had Belial done to him? 

“Certain side effects only last for a minute or two. Useful for a fight and for getting warmed up before the good part, but we wouldn’t want to miss out on all of that raw emotion you have bottled up inside. I’m far more interested in something with a little bite than I am in fucking a mindless puppet.” Belial moved back down to the sheet between Sandalphon’s legs, tucking his legs in before settling comfortably between them.

Sandalphon drew himself back in response, fumbling backwards on his heavy limbs until his folded wings bumped up against the headboard of the bed. He sank back into Belial’s discarded fur pelt and let himself take comfort in the security of having something solid and safe behind him. He pulled his legs into himself, curling the heavy limbs into his exposed body, shying away from Belial’s scorching touch. 

The Fallen Primarch watched him with light amusement, allowing him to pull away without so much as a flinch.

With the moment of respite from Belial’s touch, he forced himself to think, to recall the familiar feeling that coursed through him. He’d felt this before during his previous encounter with the primal, that he could piece together. It had been not long after he’d joined the crew, on the deck of the Grandcypher, just before Avatar had awakened...

Sandalphon cast his gaze downward, eyes catching on the curling pink marking etched into his skin. It burned its lines into the crude shape of a heart, glowing softly where Belial’s hand had once rested.

An aphrodisiac. 

Anagenesis.

“So, did you take enough time to figure it out?” The primal surged forward, grabbing Sandalphon’s legs in a single brutish movement. With another jerk, he spread them open again, pinning his knees in place with his elbows as his hands settled further down his thighs.

“Don’t touch me,” he hissed back pushing against Belial’s chest with valiant but weakened effort as the hands groped at him against. The primal didn’t budge.

“Your manners might leave much to be desired, but your body on the other hand; I’ve never seen anywhere more inviting.” He licked his lips, accentuating the statement. “Look at it, practically begging me for more. You’re still raring to go in spite of everything, It must feel really good finally getting attention from something other than your own hand.” 

“Stop--” Sandalphon strained against the grip on his thighs. Where the fingers pressed into him, electricity crackled through his nerves. 

Then, it hit him.

He needed to call forth his power, to drawn on the deep well within himself. He was the Supreme Primarch, his mastery over the other primals should have kept him safe from this sort of treatment. Why had he dragged his feet up until now when he could have put Belial in his place at the very start.

All at once, his breathing steadied as he exerted control back over his spiraling conscience. His eyes narrowed as they locked onto Belial before him, the image feeding into his fury as he visualized the precise manner in which he would exact his revenge.

He pictured it so clearly, the brilliance bursting forth, drowning out the shadows in the room. The image of Belial cowering drew a thin smile onto his lips.

Then as the well of light bubbled up inside of him flowing outward to the very tips of his six shining wings setting them alight with a radiant luminance, he felt the energy sputter out to nothing. The glow died down fading out around him as if consumed by the very air, leaving him in the dim flickering light of the oil lamp.

He remained trapped beneath Belial’s unyielding grasp.

“I was wondering when you were going to try something like that.” The blatant amusement laced into his cruel words.

“How…?”

“Didn’t I tell you? All you angels are built the same,” Belial parroted his words back mockingly. “It’s a temporary trick I learned from Cilius; it takes a bit of practice to get just right.”

The memory of Belial’s knuckles ghosting against his back returned to him. They dug into him, beating against the delicate pressure points, blocking off the flow of energy from the main body reducing his six large, clumsy wings to nothing but dead weight.

“I can see all that wonderful disdain written so very plainly on your face. You really hate me, don’t you? You’ll never forgive me for this, right?” His eyes raked up and down Sandalphon’s body hungrily, as if sizing up the dish before a meal. 

Sandalphon shivered under the gaze, feeling smaller and more helpless than ever before. 

“Now, don’t lie to me, I know your soul’s already black. Not every part of you hates this. Something in you likes being treated like this. You deserve it, don’t you?” Belial looked Sandalphon in the eye as his fingers trace against the sensitive inside of his thighs with listless urgency, drawing lazy shapes into soft skin. 

From the very beginning, Belial had been no captive of his. This had been the plan all along, hadn’t it? 

“You’ve always wanted someone to take you and break you apart, again and again, till you’re screaming and clawing for release.” 

The word echoes through Sandalphon’s mind, bouncing around in the emptiness. Was this really it?

“You’re just as irredeemable as me, aren’t you?”

Amongst monsters of the old world he had rotted for two thousand years. Amongst monsters he’d been ripped apart and sewn closed.  
Amongst monsters he now lay, bare to the bone, vulnerable.

Monsters were all he knew. 

It wasn’t difficult to believe his core was dark and cracked, that Sandalphon had never been worthy to grasp at the illusion of light in the first place. Lyria had been wrong to suggest that Lucifer would have felt anything for something as wretched as him.

Belial’s eyes bore into him, slitted pupils watching him closely, analyzing the slight changes in his prey with cold and calculating clarity. It was the first time they had ever betrayed the true measure of their cruel intelligence.

Belial had a plan, a design he had been following. Each one of his meandering nonsensical movements had had a point to it. He’d severely underestimated the demon, and for that it would cost him his pride.

Belial may have been a stalking wolf, but he was no innocent lamb idling on its way to the slaughter. He could guess what was coming; the two of them were cut from the same cloth.

Belial was right in at least one of his accusations.

He did deserve this.

Instinctively, Sandalphon wanted to cover up, to shield himself from that soul baring gaze, but instead held himself stubbornly. He met Belial with every ounce of poison he could summon up.

The corners of Belial’s mouth curled into a sinister smile. “So glad to have you here to accompany me so enthusiastically through this.”

The pressure between his knees lessened cautiously, as if to test him, waiting for him to dart away in another useless attempt at escape. 

Sandalphon didn’t budge, fighting to hold himself still.

Satisfied with the display of submission, Belial withdrew his elbows, straightening his arms so they could move more freely. He pushed his intrusive palms down, guiding his legs further apart before sliding them down to their intended destination. 

The large forefinger pressed between his legs, pushing at his entrance gently as if testing for a reaction from him. His muscles tightened and blood rushed back down, throbbing between them.

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” Sandalphon grunted, feeling his hips shake from the effort it took to keep them still. “I don’t want this.”

“How very sensible for you to understand your options are limited, but you lie…” Belial trailed off, attention pulled elsewhere. 

For a moment, it seemed as though the primal had changed his mind about continuing to violate him. The progress stopped abruptly and Belial withdrew his fingers from between Sandalphon’s legs, intrigue and confusion painted on his sharp features. 

Then, as quickly as it had come, the bewilderment receded; morphing into a look of delighted surprise as he studied the finger before him. The tip was slick, dripping with some sort of viscous fluid that clung the the pad of his forefinger. “Ha, there really is something fucked up about that body of yours. You smell like a Beta, but can you really be sure? Seems a little too good to be true when you’re dripping wet like a bitch.”

“I’m not an Omega,” Sandalphon growled, his hands curling into fists, clutching the sheets beneath him with a tight grip. He wanted to fight, to bring that fist crashing into Belial’s smug face, but he’d already resolved himself to lay still.

“It really is too bad we had to do things this way. I would have prefered to have seen how things would have gone outside of a rut. I wonder what it would feel like getting fucked by an Omega with an attitude like yours.” An expression that almost resembled regret washed over his face in the form of a half hearted smile as he watched the metaphorical venom ooze out of Sandalphon, “...But bestial instincts cannot be held back forever, not even by a ‘perversion’ like myself.” 

The fingers returned to their place between his legs, tracing a ring around him with his knuckles, smearing his fingers with the liquid. He pressed down with teasing pressure, reveling in the whimper that escaped from the angel in response.

“S-stop!” He cried out squirming under the touch.

“Aha, good, there’s some fight in you still! And here I almost thought you were going to take it lying down. You would enjoy this more if you gave in, but I don’t think I would.” He forced Sandalphon’s hips back down into the mattress, holding him down.

“I always get what I want...” Belial flashed a set of dangerously sharp white teeth at the angel underneath him, positioning two of his fingers at his entrance as he did so. “...even if I have to take it by force.” On the last note, the fingers pushed forward, thrusting their way into him.

Sandalphon cried out, unable to restrain his voice as the fingers slid into him, meeting little resistance. They worked their way forward relentlessly, probing deeper inside him, stretching him out as they went. It felt weird, wrong, but his body melted around the touch, betraying him with its eagerness to accept the curling fingers inside him.

“Please, stop- stop.” He whined, though more out of desperation than command. He couldn’t trust himself to pull away if it went too far, not when he was already starting to crumble. It felt like something inside him was falling into place. Like a spark catching in a field of dried grass, igniting a fire that couldn’t be contained.

A third finger forced its way inside far too soon after, Belial ignoring his pleas. The new addition burned as it stretched him too quickly, too eager to move forward. 

“I’m trying so hard to get you ready, but you’re making this difficult.” A visible sweat had broken out against the Primal’s skin, dripping from his brow, beading on his chest. His fingers spread apart, moving in an impatient frenzy. “It’s not easy getting me to fit, but if you insist, I’ll skip to the good part.”

The fingers departed, pulling out of his squirming body quickly. Belial wiped the slick digits against the inside of Sandalphon’s thigh clicking his tongue as he did so. 

He let out an involuntary gasp as the pressure disappeared from inside him, leaving him with the jarring sensation of emptiness for the first time. He lay there still, stunned, missing the fullness that had just left him.

“Get up, on your knees,” Belial commanded, the urgency clear in his tone. 

Sandalphon submitted to the command with less hesitation than he would have liked to display, but the heat was growing in him. It coiled in the pit of his stomach as he tucked in his wings and rolled over. He crawled to his knees, turning around so he was facing back towards the larger primal who sat below him. 

Belial’s attention had returned back to himself. His hand worked him up and down smearing his throbbing cock with his own precum. 

“You’re good enough to go since you’re dripping wet, I suppose.” His eyes were unfocused and feral as they regarded Sandalphon before him. He stretched out his arm, catching the Supreme Primarch’s hips with his free hand, dragging him closer until they pressed together.

Sandalphon’s heart jumped into his throat as they met. His tired body was alive again, coursing with liquid fire; every touch only fed the hungry flames. He reveled in the contact, leaning into Belial’s chest as the smell of the Alpha’s pheromones filled his lungs.

Then, something hard and slick pressed up between his legs, brushing against his entrance.

“You’re not thinking of-“ He fumbled, fighting to make his voice work.

“What? Are you afraid it won’t fit?” Belial asked mockingly as he lined his cock up with clumsy excitement. Despite the size difference between the fingers and Belial’s cock, he showed no sign of restraint in his advances as he adjusted his angle carefully.

Sandalphon felt sweat gathering at his brow as he swallowed hard, debating with himself on whether or not he should try pulling away again. It wouldn’t, it couldn’t fit inside him. There was no way something nearly the length and width of his forearm would-

Belial did not give him the time he needed to respond before he made his move. There was an abrupt jerk against the back of Sandalphon’s thighs that caught him off guard. 

“I’m really going to enjoy taking your first time from you.” He hummed as Sandalphon’s knees gave out under the straining pull of the Primal’s hand that guided him downward to sink as far as he could into his lap. 

The thing that hit him first was again is how hot Belial’s cock felt as it forced its way into him. It burned him as his hands had, but with a far greater intensity. It pushed its way inside of him, scalding into him with an insatiable heat. Each ridge of the monstrous thing drove him open more and more, rubbing against him, filling him with painful new stimulations every time he so much as flinched. 

He opened his mouth, but no sound drew forth from his gasping lips.

Belial made a strained noise of effort, breathing heavily in his ear. “Ha- you’re so small. It’s going to be a tight fit, but I think you’ll manage.” 

Sandalphon felt his legs shake as sharp raw pain radiated out. He leaned his head forward into Belial for support, wrapping his trembling arms around the demon’s neck. It already felt like he was being torn open, filled far past his breaking point.

“And after all of that complaining when I was taking it slow, now you want to go back to that again?” Cruel laughter echoed through the stagnant air.

He glanced down to look at the point where they met and found his ability to curse again. Little more than the tip had managed to fit itself inside him, that alone causing him this amount of grief. A slow trail of blood trailed its way from him, down Belial’s length, snaking over its monstrous shape until it pooled around a divet by his hips. 

Belial’s half assed job at getting him ready had not prepared him for this. 

He’d broken skin somewhere along the line.

Still, the advance did not halt, Belial’s grip on him tightened and he fought against Sandalphon’s desperate efforts to slow him down.

Sandalphon’s muscles tensed and a pained noise slid free of his throat. “Stop, it-“ He tried, his voice shaking. “It hurts-“ Tears began to prick at the corners of his eyes. He sounded pathetic.

“Relax,” Belial ordered with Alpha authority. His hands glided over bone, rubbing a soothing circle into his hips. “You’ll adjust.”

“Go to hell,” He managed, but his voice wavered with effort, lessening the impact of his threat. 

Despite his lack of verbal compliance, not moments after the words left him, his tight body began to loosen up. Every clenched muscle relaxed in his thighs and abdomen, reducing the toughened muscles to pliable putty. His legs and arms slackened as his wings unfolded themselves, unable to stay tightly tucked against his back. They spread out, resting limply on the sheets around them, forming two pools of shining white feathers that spilled out over each side in shimmering falls. 

Then, the pain began to subside to a dull ache as, unexplainably, his body finished obeying the demand without so much as a second of hesitation. 

“I fucking hate you.” He hissed through gritted teeth as his hold around Belial’s neck threatened to slip.

“Oh I know, I know.” He shushed Sandalphon, pressing a kiss into his hair, “But I for one, have never thought more of you. You look absolutely irresistible right now.” Belial murmured dragging Sandalphon’s down, forcing himself further inside of the more compliant body.

His heart pounded in his ears as his body adjusted to accommodate him, molding to the enormous, grotesque shape.

“That’s better, see?” Belial whispered softly, a sadistic grin plastered on his face. 

“I can’t take anymore, stop.” He pleaded the words into the crook of Belial’s neck.

“Oh you can, you can.”

“Go any further and I’ll break-”

“That’s not my problem.” The words escaped snidely before Belial gave a final, forceful thrust, pushing roughly against the remaining resistance. It slid in, the savage shape dragging and scraping against his insides despite the inexplicable lubrication. He pushed, hard, until his cock could go no further; fitted entirely inside Sandalphon’s small frame. 

He felt so impossibly full with all of Belial crammed inside of him. The feeling reached up well beyond the base of his abdomen; the pressure alone threatened to send him over the edge.

“Take it out I’m going to-“ He tried to warn, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to battle against the overwhelming feeling inside him. But his words fell on deaf ears.

“I feel good don’t I? I love going in raw, nothing quite like it.” Belial mused, snaking a hand up to grab Sandalphon’s cock, stroking him with a teasing movement. “Say my name. Tell me how good it is.”

“No, Nhgg… Belial.” Despite his bark, he felt himself unable to follow through on the bite. His words tumbled out too fast, too eager to please. He leaned into the strokes, but the light touches weren’t enough on their own.

“That’s a start, but you’re going to need to try harder than that, little Sandy.” Belial’s hand brushed against a lock of his wavy brown hair, hair tucking it behind his ear almost fondly. “Look me in the eye.”

The authority in Belial’s words grated at his nerves, bidding him heed his whim. The stubborn part of him that still felt shame, refused it. The tenacious aspect of him clung onto what little dignity he had left, fighting to hold him back despite the promise of release. 

Still, despite the valiant effort, it wasn’t strong enough to compete with the burning heat writhing under his skin; searing his flesh from beneath. 

The odds were too far stacked against him.

Groaning, Sandalphon opened his eyes to meet Belial’s command. Deep red irises watched him with voracious appetite, feeding off of his reactions. He demanded everything from Sandalphon, ready to take every ounce of what the angel had to offer him, while in return only dangling scraps just out of reach.

“You’re so big, I feel so full.” He continued weakly, searching for the words that would satisfy Belial enough to let him finish. He knew from experience that if he did not, he’d be stuck suspended in this state until he did. “It’s so hot, it feels like I’m burning, I-“ He gasped as the grip tightened against his cock stroking him hard. 

He felt himself shake beneath the hand, trying not to move his hips to prevent further pain. He gasped for air. “Ah, fuck-” He blurted the words out, following them up with a desperate plea. “Please, harder-”

Sandalphon felt his muscle strength returning as he tightened around the cock; a cascade welling up within him.

“My name.” Belial demanded, rhythm erratic against him. “Say it.”

“Fuck, Belial, please-!” He moaned out louder than before as the feelings climaxed inside him, rushing out in an uncontrolled torrent, surging through him. “Belial!”

Sandalphon spilled out over himself and Belial’s hand.

His chest heaved as the blissful waves wash over him. Belial let him ride them out in his hand until the feeling abated and he steadied himself. He leaned forward to rest against Belial’s chest, not stubborn enough to try and hide his enjoyment from the Primal.

His dirtied hand lifted up to Sandalphon’s lips, his middle and index finger pressing against them expectantly.

“Open your mouth.”

Compelled by the command and his exhaustion, he parted his lips compliantly, allowing the two dirty fingers to slip inside. He braced himself for the vile taste of the cum, the foul bitterness he’d experienced from their previous kisses had been awful. 

But the strong taste didn’t come, or at least it didn’t come with the same intensity. Instead it was dulled, not unbearable to his altered taste buds. Presumably, another after effect of the charm spell.

He sucked on the fingers, feeling them curl inside his mouth and graze against his tongue. He swallowed around them, focus trained on the bony knuckles before him.

“Mmmm, who would have thought this morning that I’d get the chance to fuck Lucifer’s pet in his own bed,” Belial mused as he ran a hand through Sandalphon’s matted hair. His fingers pushed deeper, grazing against the back of his throat.

He held back the reflex to gag; the visible effort showed on his face.

“Aren’t you just breathtaking like this?”

Belial’s words echoed back to him, but they felt far off, unreal. It felt as though he was operating on autopilot as he ran his tongue over the fingers, cleaning them off as he stared back at the primal. The remaining aftershocks of his last orgasm still jolted through him, leaving him in a pleasant daze.

The demon’s mouth moved, forming words, but he couldn’t catch them before the fingers disappear from his mouth. They traced against his lips, trailing down to drag a path of his own spit against his throat before returning to his waist.

Then Belial began to move, rolling his hips down and then back up into Sandalphon, sending a fresh wave of discomfort through his fried nerves. He trembled as his muscles tensed up again, not yet fully prepared for this amount of stimulation so soon after his last orgasm. He had never fully adjusted to fit Belial comfortably inside him, if that were even possible.

He intended to growl, to show Belial that despite everything he still maintained some measure of control over himself, but the noise that escaped him sounded small, pathetic. It was something akin to a whimper; it fell from his lips as Belial’s cock thrusted up to meet him again, rocking the angel’s entire body with the force of his movement.

“Does it still hurt?” The primal questioned, though no trace of even artificial sympathy could be ascertained from the words. “That’s too bad, It feels great on my end. Damn, you’re squeezing me so tight.”

The hand departed from his waist, curling its fingers around the back of his thigh to compel Sandalphon to move with him. His back arched as Belial bucked into him, sounds of skin slapping against skin resounded around them. He adjusted his angle again and again as if searching for something that would pull another, different, reaction from him. His movements grew stronger, less restrained.

Then Sandalphon felt himself hardening again, heat crawling through him, demanding more from him. He’d never felt that good before, his mind is still reeling, tremors going up and down his body as he tried to come down from his high. 

“Aren’t you a well-behaved little bitch. Anagenesis has worn off by now and you’re still getting hard? You’re a fucking Omega in heat, aren’t you?” Belial breathed out incredulously, laughing loudly to himself.

“I’m not-“ Sandalphon tried again, irritation sparking as he’s forced to correct Belial again.

But the Primal cut in, stopping him before he could finish.“You won’t accept it even though it’s staring you right in the face. Oh, this is too good. Cilius would have gotten a laugh. I do wonder what he did to you, how you haven’t had a heat yet, but seems you’re going into one now; I’m starting to smell it on you.”

The Primal rutted into him hard and Sandalphon’s response was torn away as his words descended into a garbled mess. He threw his head back, unfiltered moans of pleasure replacing whatever complaint could have been mustered. Under any other circumstance this amount of stimulation should not have continued to feel this good, but electricity crackled where they met, short circuiting his brain. The discomfort melted away.

“Where did all of that bite go? Are you really so quick to forget yourself with just a small taste of my cock?” Belial’s words were smug, caustic to Sandalphon’s remaining pride. “Luci must be rolling in his grave watching you act like this.”

He felt the burn of a blush rise to his cheeks. 

“Look.” A commanding tone laces its way into the last word, compelling his attention elsewhere. The hand that had been playing with his hair paused abruptly before seizing a fist full of his locks, yanking on them painfully. Crying out softly, Sandalphon readied himself to swat at the hand that jerked his neck to the side.

But, his movement fell short as he caught sight of the figure leaning up against the wall.

Lucifer.

No, that was impossible. Lucifer was dead, he’d seen- no, he had held the head in his arms. He’d confirmed it, there was no way.

His gaze locked onto the six enormous wings that fanned out around the slender figure. Pure white and regal, but they were heavily disheveled, dragging against the floor carelessly. Feathers lay scattered about the ground around him, lost from some great struggle. 

His eyes drifted down to Lucifer’s face and he immediately realized his mistake.

Matted wavy brown hair framed the figure’s features. The jaw was too round, the eyes too angled and dark, mouth too thin. The skin was too rough. Blemishes marked up its surface where it should have been smooth.

He stared and his tired pupil-less eyes stared back.

A reflection, the sheet over his mirror had somehow gotten knocked down. 

Spit dripped down his chin in a hideous display of carnal desperation that painted itself on the rest of his ugly features. It spread outward tainting the radiance of the wings that grew from his back. 

His bruised body looked too disproportionately small for them.

He closed his mouth abruptly, shame coursing through him once again at his own licentious display. He looked awful sitting there in Belial’s lap, disarranged, covered in blood and sweat with cum painted on his stomach and thighs. 

Sandalphon shrank back against the image in horror, fighting to turn his head.

“Don’t look away.” He watched the reflection of Belial hiss with sadistic delight, “I want you to watch the moment you finally give into me.”

Then, Belial leaned forward to rest his head against Sandalphon’s neck, tilting the supreme primarch’s head back with a slow tug of his hair.

Sandalphon’s eyes followed the motions in the mirror, attention fixated on the fallen primarch, eager to look at anything but himself. 

He felt teeth scrape against his neck and his tongue lap at his skin as Belial’s hips continued to buck into him relentlessly. “You smell so good it’s almost sinful. If you’re really not an Omega like you say then it shouldn’t be a problem if I do this right?” His canines paused to rest over the large pulsating artery in his neck, lips sucking at the skin leisurely.

Sandalphon’s mind raced as the puzzle pieces began to fit into place, Belial’s words taking on meaning in his head.

He intended to mark him, to bond with him.

Belial waited patiently, running his mouth over the spot over and over again humming to himself.

If he refused, he would be admitting he had been wrong. Every assumption he’d had about himself and the other primals would be flawed, incorrect. His authority as supreme primarch could be questioned by the other primarchs, the promise he made to Lucifer jeopardized if they doubted his ability to hold the mantle of power. A gift he both despised and desired, he would defend his right to hold it relentlessly, but he needed their respect to maintain it.

However, If he agreed, if there was even the slightest chance that Belial was right, there would be no escaping him after this. 

Bonds were not so easily broken.

“You said you didn’t want to risk bonding with an Omega, why would you…?”

“Is that uncertainty I sense? Are you stalling for time? I have my reasons, don’t mind them.”

He paused letting his mind turn over the decision in his head. He knew he wasn’t so why did he hesitate?

“What are you waiting for?” He grunted stubbornly. “If it’ll make you shut up then do it.”

He could feel a smile split the fallen one’s lips against his neck, “Whatever happens, remember, you did agree to this.” 

Belial bite down, harder than he ever had before, sending an unnecessary wave of fresh pain coursing through the angel’s body. The sharp teeth clamped down into him, crushing skin and tearing into connective tissue until they locked themselves into place. 

He jolted, fighting to pull himself away from the sharp agony, but Belial’s teeth held the elastic skin.

Then, a jolt of electricity followed.

The onset of panic was immediate. No, no, no, that wasn’t supposed to happen.

It shot through him, sending sparks flying into his field of vision. Without warning, he felt himself veering backwards, violently, as the strength sapped away from his body through the trauma. Arms wrapped around his back and waist, catching him before he could slam back into the headboard, holding him in place, upright.

In replacement of the energy that had left, a rush of chemicals bleed from him, responding to the wound. The flood gates in his head opened allowing a faux calming sensation to wash over him blotting out all other emotions including the ever present anxiety that held his mind hostage. A coarse numbing effect spread out over the bite, soothing away the pain, stealing all sensation from his limbs. 

Every other emotion drowned in the sea of overpowering calmness. He floated there for a moment, far removed from the situation at hand, drifting quietly undisturbed.

Blood dripped down his neck.

Then feeling came back to him tenfold.

He had been wrong.

A scream tore from his hoarse throat, filling the room with his broken notes. 

Belial relinquished his grip on Sandalphons neck to lift him back up and pulled him down again grinding into him with all the force he could muster. He slammed into him, hitting a spot that sent him gasping for breath as he sank back down onto the cock. 

“Fuck.” Belial moaned letting his hold on Sandalphon slip so that he could sink back into the pillows behind him, head resting against the headboard. The Primal leaned over him, shifting easily into the position, giving a new better angle to drive himself into Sandalphon. “Fuck, you feel so good. I’m going to cum.”

“Pull out.” He groaned, trying to center himself back in reality. The heat was building up inside him, pushing him back close to the edge. “Don’t come inside.” He winced as the words left him, a newly revealed part of his nature disapproving ot the words.

The same wicked grin curled onto Belial’s bloodied lips as they split open to reveal crimson red teeth.

“No.”

Then the heat between his legs overflowed and rushed deeper into him in the form of thick, hot liquid as Belial came in him. The Fallen Primarch’s face contorted, his eyes squeezing shut as the waves of release washed over him.

Sandalphon’s eyes widened, horror dawning on him far too late. 

Blood rushed to the base of Belial’s cock as he came, expanding outward, stretching Sandalphon open even more, painfully. It locked the two of them in place, cementing a physical bond between them where a chemical, emotional bond previously resided alone. It trapped him there, unable to pull away from Belial, had he even the strength to consider doing so, for fear of causing himself further harm.

Belial continued, unbothered by Sandalphon’s reaction as he rocked his hips back and forth relentlessly, eager to ride out his own orgasm to the absolute limit of its enjoyment.

“Now, come for me little Sandy.” 

Command or no, he was already too close to deny himself any longer. The gathering pressure spilled out of him, coating his stomach with the dull white liquid as his toes curled and every muscle in him tightened on the release. Tears burned in his eyes pricking at the corners, threatening to leak out onto his grimy cheeks.

He really had lost. Everything.

“Oh that was good.” Belial exhaled, slowing his movements to a halt, “I could go for a few more rounds.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please use a condom. Also here’s my twitter if you would like to subject yourself to me more often @_Hanged_Man_


	6. Beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmare. It was a nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so I’m still alive believe it or not and I’m going to start updating this again. I’m switching to shorter chapters which should hopefully help me get on a more consistent updating schedule. I have a shit ton of this written it just needs a lot of editing.

His eyes fluttered closed; shutting out out the hazy scene around him. The gentle lul of silence chased his eyelids and the static in his ears subsided as a world of grey rose up to meet him. 

He breathed out, slowly, just letting the air escape from his lungs. With the air, the tension in his body too followed. 

He felt neither good nor ill about this development, in fact he hardly felt anything at all. Whatever was washing over him filled him with an overwhelming sense of sedation. It ran through his limbs until his body hung limp. It swirled into his head till his thoughts were put to rest.

But, for some indiscernible reason, he didn’t seem to care that control had slipped from his grasp.

It was freedom in a sense, he supposed, to be removed from the problems of being. The liberty to not be defined by a capsule, a role. To just exist without truly existing. He was nothing more than a consciousness floating through an endless grey abyss. 

How strange it was to no longer want a purpose after wishing for one for so long. Pity the fool who dreamed of greater things.

He stared up at the underside of his eyelids thoughtfully, but then that realization too escaped him. What did it matter now? Thinking took too much effort and besides, there was no point in a sense of urgency. Answer would come in due time and time was plentiful here.

A wave of clear grey water passed through him and he lay in thoughtless silence.

But the moment did not last forever as he assumed it would. A new feeling tugged at him, urging him to move on. It wasn’t startling but still the urge was unexpected. What place did progression have here? What reason was there for him to move on?

Still, he followed, curious as to where the pull would lead. He let himself drift along the gentle current, expending no more effort than what was required to keep him inside it’s influence. How long this went on for he wasn’t sure. However the end was punctuated by a very distinct new sensation.

He began to sink.

He knew this feeling too didn’t he?

Sleep.

Oh Creators, he missed it. When was the last time the moon run its course alone? Had there ever been a time before the cries of the damned hadn’t filled his ears and stolen that fleeting rest? When last had the stars winked out with the closing of his eyes and the night had continued on as it always did without him to play sentinel through the long watch?

Weeks ago?

Months maybe?

He couldn’t say now. He had dozed now and again, but nothing near as deep as this sea of bottomless black. It embraced him warmly; the promise of sweet and restful dreams just below the darkening horizon. He reached back with his fickle consciousness, grasping for the fragile connection that linked him to the wonderful world of wakelessness. 

Something responded. It reached back for him; grasping him with the promise of blissful unconsciousness. It tempting him with the chance to rest his weary bones-

Only to drag him forth into a nightmare.

Suddenly, the space around him was defined. The grey plunged to a deep black that buzzed, crackling with wild energy. It felt unfathomably expansive, stretching for hundreds of miles in every direction as far as he could see. 

How could he know if he could see the end of it or if what he saw was limited by his own mortal eyes?

In a boundless space why did he feel so closed in? The darkness rose up around him like the bars of an invisible bird cage, trapping him in this other liminal place between rest and waking. He was a prisoner here; drowning rather than floating in a sea of unconsciousness. Here he was unable to wake and regain control.

On his own maybe, but soon enough he realized he was not alone. 

His eyes flicked downward and he noticed himself. Despite the nature of this space his body remained present. Black and gold armor adorned his arms and chest, glittering in contrast to the ragged green skirt around his waist. 

It wasn’t the set that Lucifer had gifted him still less than a few weeks prior. This was a soldier’s uniform, the very one he’d worn during his time at the lab till just after he’d rained hell down on the skies.

It was something that had been done away with recently; a sign of the past him that had been discarded to make way for his redefined purpose. Another intimation to remind him of the unreality of this place.

Still, the body, dressed in it’s grim reminder, moved as his own and felt as his should have. The weight that rested in his arms felt real enough.

A shudder ran through him as he noticed the object that rested in his hands. It was round, heavy, near eight pounds of solid weight, and wrapped neatly in a bright red sash. Its contents were completely concealed from him. Regardless, he knew what it was without removing the cover; even before the still soft voice echoed from the swaddled package. 

“Is someone... there?“

His heart sank.

Lucifer called out to the darkness from between his fingertips. His voice felt fragile, as if any sudden movement would shatter it. Though it was only a single phrase he uttered, the sound was ridden with desperation.

“You who reached the unreachable land of Canaan. Whether you be one or many, I must beg a favor. Please. I have a message for the ears of one named Sandalphon. Tell him...

The Primarch’s last words echoed back to him stabbing his heart with their heartbreaking melody. A cruel time capsule that held captive all of the harps of heaven. It restored his grief anew.

“Lucifer.” His hands trembled, his voice broke; the covered head of the former primarch felt heavier and heavier with each passing moment. “Stop.”

“Sandalphon, I leave my power and the position of supreme primarch to you. We must both atone for the cataclysm which struck the skies.”

“Stop, it’s already done.”

He tried his voice again, but there was no sign of recognition as before. Still, the Supreme Primarch did not waver in his speech despite the request. 

“My penance is death. Yours is to live on as protector of this realm.”

“Have you not haunted me enough with your memory alone? Must you recite your mantra of self sacrifice over and over to me in my dreams until it’s burned into my heart?”

He could unwrap the head and hold the jaw shut, that might stop him from continuing. 

His stomach heaved at the thought.

“Is it my fate to atone for the rest of eternity?” 

It was in the moment directly following his words that, from out of the darkness, they appeared.

Hundreds upon hundreds of shadowed hands. They were undefined; hardly standing out against the dark backdrop. Still he saw them, or more accurately, he felt them on him.

They encircled his body, grabbing for whatever part of him they could reach. He had no time to react before they covered him completely, wrenching him in every which direction. He opened his mouth to cry out and one slid it’s way into his throat, tearing into his lungs.

They pulled and prodded at him. Under the punishing strain, his bones snapped.

The brutalizing force didn’t end even after he lay broken, withering in pain. They held on still, guiding his limbs to conform to a new shape that they saw more fitting as his body fought to repair the damage done.

They molded him anew into a grotesque form; an ancient horror, a beast of the pit. 

And as they did they screamed.

Still Lucifer continued to speak deaf and blind to the danger around him. Even as the transformation progressed; his mouth moved under the delicate fabric wrapping, progressing through the remainder of his final lament. 

Sandalphon clutched him close to his chest through will power alone; shielding him from the brutal onslaught with his shattered body.

All the while, his bones bent under their excruciating guidance and then reformed to the new unnatural angles. His teeth were torn out, but they regrew sharper, more beastial. His spine elongated until it tore from his skin acting as a framework for muscle and connective tissue that pulled tight over the whip like tail.

The feathers of his white wings molted away and what wasn’t shed was torn out by savage fingers. They plucked him, revealing sharps scales and thin membranes like a monsterous under coat.

He couldn’t tell which was louder; the unearthly screams that rose from the hands or the sound of his bones grinding and muscles snapping. Despite the noise, Lucifer’s fragile whispering voice still reached his ears.

“And one day… you must carry out what I could not-“

Sharp taloned nails cradled the former primarch gently to his soft underbelly. A monster he may be, but they would not touch Lucifer.

“The destruction of Lucilius’s Legacy.”

It’s dead! It’s gone! He wanted to shout, but a terrible roar resounded from his torn vocal chords instead of words. 

“Ah, well what do we have here?”

A deep voice, following close behind his, cut through the shrieks and cries of the many limbed demons and they fell silent. Even Lucifer’s jaw fell slack and he spoke no more.

“Sandy… you’ve always wanted someone to take you and break you apart again and again. So come on, show some more gratitude.” 

The hands shrank back at the words; relinquishing their grip on Sandalphon as they cowered. 

He knew that silver tongue.

His new sharp beast like eyes shot to the fallen primal that stood towering over him. Belial’s menacing stare pierced into him as he studied the deplorable monstrosity that Sandalphon had become.

“What a twisted creature I’ve stumbled upon. Have you been forgotten by your creator; left to rot alone in the abyss?”

Sandalphon shivered under the gaze, feeling defenseless in spite of the thick hide on his savage new body. He hung his head and shrank into himself, submitting to the cruel remarks. 

“You’re no better than a serpent that crawls through the dirt. Keep your head down and be trampled by your betters, that’s how it goes right?”

Belial reached out to touch the scaled leather of his face in cold admiration. 

“You like being treated like this. You deserve it, don’t you?” 

He guided his chin back up; fingers tracing the sharp curve of his jaw. The pads of his fingertips were unbelievably soft against his roughened skin. Without thinking, Sandalphon pushed back into them, rubbing his face into the human like touch.

The dark haired man’s gaze softened with pity.

“It seems I’m mistaken. I’ll ask you to forgive me, you’re no serpent.” 

Belial knelt down in front of Sandalphon, bringing the two of them down to the same eye level. His brows scrunched together in contemplation.

“The serpent was cursed to crawl without limbs for its deception and yet here you are; arms and legs, even wings.”

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth and the moment of sympathy ended.

“You’ve spit in the face of creation and claimed the power denied to you, wings that shouldn’t have been yours adorn your back. You’re just irredeemable aren’t you?”

Belial’s soft lips pressed against the hard line of his mouth. He felt warmth blossom from them then run down his throat until it settled in his belly. It filled him up to the brim with a ravenous hunger.

The kiss was short, hardly more than a peck, but he starved for the affection. He leaned in as Belial pulled away.

“You’re beautiful like this; a fucked up emotional wreck. The one and only Primarch of Vengeance.”

A soft fondness danced its way into his lidded crimson eyes.

Amongst monsters of the old world he had rotted for two thousand years. Amongst monsters he’d been ripped apart and sewn closed again.  
Amongst monsters he now lay, bare to the bone, vulnerable.

Belial leaned into him, grabbing a horn in one hand and slithering the other around his waist. His face rested against the skin of Sandalphon’s neck and he sighed, content with the new position. 

“So now, let that irresistible hatred burn you up from the inside. Rain it down like hellfire and let all of creation know your wrath.”

A Monster was what he was. 

He woke abruptly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyway, this is probably not the most satisfying update, but there’s more to come in future updates I swear.
> 
> Come kick my ass on twitter and make me finish this: @_Hanged_Man_


	7. Corpse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wounds of the vessel would repair themselves in due time, but his pride was damaged beyond restoration.
> 
> What an ugly contradiction he was.

His body jolted forward; mind trying to escape the crimson eyes that captivated him. A thin layer of sweat covered his skin as coarse breath escaped his heaving lungs. His heart raced, pounding against the cage of his ribs. It threatened to tear free of its living prison. 

Thousands of exchanged words echoed around in him; distorting the scene before him, rimming his vision with blaring static that could both be seen and heard.

He could still feel the weight of Lucifer’s head between his fingers; now growing cold under his touch. His still sweet voice poured like honey out of a now slackened mouth, assaulting his soul with bitter heartache.

But no, his hands were empty.

Nightmare. It was a nightmare.

He breathed in slowly, clutching the twisted sheets around him. He needed to ground himself. His eyes slid shut again, and let his shoulders relax. 

Quietly, he counted to ten.

One.

No talons sprouted from his nail beds.

Two.

No scales grew from his flesh.

Three.

No horns protruded from his head.

Four.

No fangs replaced his teeth.

Five.

No beast’s eyes were set in his skull.

Six.

No tail tore from his spine.

Seven.

No ridges extended from his back.

Eight.

No leathery wings extended from his shoulder blades

Nine.

No feathers littered the bed around him.

Ten.

No head of Lucifer rested in his hands.

He breathed out again and opened his eyes. He remained himself. 

For better or for worse, he was himself. 

The monster, though metaphorical, was held at bay for a day longer. After all, what else but a beast would have done what he had; to the sky islands and with the fallen angel. He was a betrayal to everything good in this world. No matter how hard he struggled, the sins continued to add up.

Lucifer had been mistaken to trust him with this responsibility.

Exhaustion crept into his aching bones as reality settled around him. His pulse began to slow, his breathing evened out. The slow rumble of the Grandcypher’s engine was blissful white noise in comparison to the horrors that haunted his dreams.

Rest never did him any good.

He raised his knee to his chest, and a powerful jolt of pain shot through the length of the limb from start to finish. He hissed through clenched teeth and let it drop back down to the bed. 

Right. Of course there would be repercussions.

His muscles were sore beyond words. Every small movement felt like an insurmountable task. Slowly, the rest of himself called his attention. He catalogued the hurts.

His skin stung and throbbed. Irritated red scabs and darkly colored bruises blossomed like a flower bed of dying nightshade and red perennials. The angry marks ran down his bare legs from underneath his boxers growing less frequent until only one or two were visible on his ankles. More of the sickly foliage climbed up him, following the curve of his hips and then sprouted up the extent of his abdomen sporadically. 

Had he not known any better, he might have believed that the terrors of his sleep had manifested physically to torment his body. Most of the marks on his skin were formless, but some displayed impressions that were unmistakably wrought with hands and teeth.

His stomach clenched at the sight of the slow healing trauma; his mind reeled at the memories that flowed back into him. Every shift brought attention to the painful ache that plagued him between his legs. 

Wounds of the vessel would repair themselves in due time, but his pride was damaged beyond restoration.

What an ugly contradiction he was. 

Absently, he reached out for his wings with his mind. An instinctive need drove him; he wanted to shield himself, to mask proof of his shame from the outside world. The thin pair of white boxers he wore did nothing to conceal the proof of the mistakes that littered his body.

That was odd. He couldn’t remember putting those on.

Bones, muscles, and feathers answered his call, manifesting themselves at his request. The powerful appendages burst from his back stretching out on either side of him to extend to his full wing span. Like a curtain, he drew the brown wings around himself.

It took only a moment longer for their wrongness of them to strike him.

Sparrow wings; his wings.

Cold dread seeped into him through his wounds. He reached out again with his mind, searching for the grand swan like wings that he knew resided within him somewhere. His last shaky link to Lucifer.

Nothing responded to his call. 

A feeling of sharp rejection stung the back of his throat and his wings slumped into two disheveled messes of feathers on either side of him. He had never had a strong grasp on the borrowed power and yet, he had truly believed it would answer him if the desire was strong enough. Funny how much it hurt now when before he’d hated the sight of them on him. 

But it seemed now, that Lucifer couldn’t stand the sight of him either.

“Sandalphon.” 

He nearly missed the single quiet word amongst the chaos of his destructive thoughts. It was spoken softly, barely above a whisper.

It broke his train of thought.

Right. He wasn’t through hell yet. He must have passed out at some point when his body had refused to continue in the acts of debauchery. At least some part of him had managed to drag him away if even only for a moment.

But now he would have to face his mistakes head on.

Slowly he turned, hardening his gaze in preparation for what he would face. First his head and then his eyes followed, settling on the voice’s owner.

It wasn’t Belial. 

Relief, confusion and, loath as he was to admit it, disappointment washed over him in equal measure. “Singularity.” Sandalphon croaked out, his voice was hoarse and throat sore from misuse. “Girl- Lyria.” 

He realized his mistake now, as two young skyfarers stared at him with open mouths. The voice in question, Gran’s, was not nearly as two fold or surreptitious in nature as the fallen angel’s was. It was deeper than Sandalphon’s yes, but it held a rougher element that hinted at adolescence not long past. 

Had he been paying attention, there would have been no mistaking the two.

They sat by a small end table on the other side of the room just under an opened window. It seemed that Gran had been pouring over some document that were set out on the wooden surface however his attention was now fixed on Sandalphon. Lyria’s surprised gaze was also trained on him. Small colorful sheets of paper slipped from her fingers gliding down to scatter on the table and floor.

Neither of them paid the mess any heed. 

Oh no, oh hell. Where was he? His eyes darted around the rest of the room.

He recognized it in the very least. He’d been here once before after his square off with avatar to patch up a few small scrapes. He wasn’t well acquainted with the space, but the IV drips and clear glass cabinets that held colorful potions and injury kits were unmistakable. Bleached white sheets were tucked into the unoccupied beds around him. 

The infirmary. It seemed he was the only patient here.

Belial. Where was he? He was supposed to be guarding the fallen angel wasn’t he? Had he knocked him unconscious and escaped?

His heart rate spiked again. This time the sound of a screaming monitor answered it; the shrill cry greeted his ears at a pace equal to that of his racing heart. His hair stood on end and he clutched his sheets to himself willing it to stop. 

“Sandalphon!” Lyria exclaimed as the spell wore off with the blare of the machine. Her face brightened and she stood clumsily; knocking into the table in her haste. An unlucky victim in an excitable dog’s path. 

She bounded over to him gleefully. 

Gran took a moment longer, but followed close behind. He stopped only to steady some teetering instruments that threatened to tip off of the wobbling table. “You’re awake.” A tired smile formed on the young man’s face.

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re ok!” The girl in blue, vessel of a power that surpassed sky dweller knowledge.

Her voice filled the room with a supernatural authority despite it’s vessel. It was gentle and musical; like a silver wind chime with lyrical notes that echoed an unearthly melody. In a way, it reminded him of Lucifer’s voice, though his was far deeper and rumbled like thunder when he was displeased. 

Irritated Lyria was more akin to a upset hoard of hummingbirds.

Still, despite the humorous mental image, he didn’t miss how backwards it felt to watch that vessel of ancient power crawl across his bed on hands and knees. She stopped only to kneel at his side; hair spilling out down her back, pooling around her knees in a tangled waterfall of blue locks. Her eyes sparkled like a set of brilliant blue stars as her hands clasped his sorry ones between them. 

Genuine, unadulterated joy practically leaked from her pores. 

“We were all so worried about you.” She nodded vigorously as if to prove her own point. “Here look! Me and Vryn have been folding stars with our wishes to help you get better.”

She let go of his hand as quickly as she’d taken it and leaned over the side of the bed to grab a glass jar. It overflowed with tiny colorful paper stars. She pushed it into his hands sending a few of the shapes spilling out on the bed around him.

“Uh-“ He accepted the jar with wide eyes. He had no idea what this was. 

“Vryn helped a lot too! He would have been here if he hadn’t been so sleepy.” Dark circles ringed under her eyes to add annotation to the statement that told Sandalphon Vryn hadn’t been the alone in his efforts. 

Was there no end to her chattering?

The monitor beside him began to beep more insistently, drowning out all other noises around him. He felt so on edge.

“Lyria-“ Gran appeared from behind her. “Hold on, he might need a moment.”

Her mouth shut immediately and she looked at Sandalphon then to the monitor. Silent realization struck her and she scooted back on the bed slightly.

“I’m fine.” Sandalphon managed through clenched teeth. “Can someone turn that damn machine off, it’s giving me a headache.” It felt like every single one of his feathers were sticking straight out.

The captain glanced at it and nodded reluctantly. All it took was the flick of a switch and he could finally hear himself think again. 

The singularity felt far more at home in this environment than the girl in blue did. For whatever reason, the captain had deemed it necessary to dabble in all different sorts of fighting styles and trades, one of those being medicine. He wore a long white lab coat over a collared scrub top and leggings as was uniform for his most recent “Doctor” venture.

A hand stopped to rest on his shoulder as the Captain moved to stand by the side of his bed. “Sandalphon. I need you to take a deep breath in and then let it out. It’s alright.”

“Where’s Belial? Did he escape?”

The question had burned in his mind for a second too long. He needed answers now.

A look of gloom crossed Lyria’s face, her bottom lip trembled.

“He’s still on the Grandcypher, there’s no cause for alarm.” The captain’s hand slid off of his shoulder.

The girl in blue looked from the Singularity to Sandalphon; her mouth opening and then closing, her hands twisting around in the sheets. She seemed to have something more to add, but thought better of it.

Sandalphon slumped back, relief and a small measure of pain flooding through him. Thank the Creators, he hadn’t messed this up too bad. In the very least he hadn’t let Belial free. He closed his eyes and breathed out as some measure of himself was allowed to relax.

“What happened? How did I get here?”

“You were on guard duty at Belial’s cell two nights ago, when he attempted an escape.” Gran’s calm voice cut in, directing Sandalphon’s attention back to him. “You were hurt, but you’re healing quickly.” 

“I was-“ Sandalphon stopped, catching the captain’s eye. The Singularity held his gaze, his eyes flashed a warning.

Guarding? Right. He glanced over at the girl in blue. This was a cover story.

Lyria hadn’t known about the mission, maybe she still didn’t understand what Sandalphon had been meant to do despite the poorly concealed evidence before her.

It had just been between the two of them in the loop to begin with, so… who was guarding Belial now? Where was he being held? His attention darted between the two of them trying to decide what he could and couldn’t ask.

“He’s dangerous you know. Where is he? I need to see him.” The sharp barbs of anxiety wound their way around his heart as the name left his lips. Honestly, who else in the crew could handle that responsibility.

Gran didn’t answer him and instead he averted his eyes. Lyria opened her mouth to speak, but seemed to think better of it and closed it again.

Something hateful and illogical bubbled up just below the surface. Where was the Alpha? Who was with him? Why wasn’t it him? Why were they keeping things from him?

“Singularity.” His eyes flashed to anger, his voice rumbled louder with angelic resonance.

Was he being evasive or was it the other company they kept? Whichever it was, this was clearly a waste of his time. If the captain wouldn’t answer him, fine. He would find out himself. He had to find him. 

Gran’s fist clenched and his expression hardened, “Sandalphon, don’t… You’re in no shape-”

He needed to find him now.

Without thinking any further about the matter, Sandalphon threw the sheets off of himself. His whole body screamed as he struggled to kick his legs out of the remainder of the white fabric that tangled itself around his aching limbs.

“Sandalphon!” Lyria cried out in surprise as she lost her balance due to his abrupt struggle. She tipped over backwards, knocked flat against the soft sheets.

“Hey, easy,” Whatever had been holding the stalemate in check dissipated. The Singularity darted forward to catch Sandalphon before he could go careening off the edge of the bed in his haste. “You’ll hurt yourself if you move like that.” 

“I’m fine.” He grunted out dryly, very aware of all evidence to the contrary. He righted himself and swung his painful limbs off the side of the bed. “I shouldn’t be here wasting time lazing about in bed. Where did the demon go?”

Shooting him a dissatisfied look, Gran shook his head. “Please, calm down. The situation is being taken care of, you’ve done your part and you need to be resting right now.”

“Singularity. I asked a question.” He snapped back, the anxiety rising to his throat. 

Gran furrowed his brows, pleading silently with him, “We have everything under control.”

“Where?”

Gran fell silent; his powerful demeanor crumbling. He shrunk back under Sandalphon’s venomous glare.

Lyria righted herself and scrambled up behind him seemingly decided that she’s had enough. “What happened to you? When they first brought you here yesterday morning… you looked awful.”

He tensed at her words.

What had he looked like when they found him? What sorry state had Belial had him in? His memory just wasn’t adding up. There was a gap of unknown length between his final moments of clarity and now. What could have been the reason for that?

A hand brushed lightly against his back and he felt fear grip his heart.

The memory of a much larger hand returned to him. It dug into his back, sending a numbing defenseless feeling shooting through his nerves. Greedy hands groped at the base of his wings; Lucifer’s wings. Hot breath washed over his neck, a cruel laugh echoed in his ears.

The grip on his feathers tightened.

Sandalphon recoiled against the unexpected touch; bolting away as far as he could as fast as he could from the source.

The sound of shattering glass resounded through the room.

Fight or flight instincts took over, driving him off of the bed until he was tumbling out of Gran’s grip to the floor. He righted himself quickly, spinning around to face the perceived threat. He snapped his wings out in an attempt to make himself look bigger, more intimidating.

He bared his teeth and snarled like a cornered animal.

Lyria drew back her hand with wide eyes, startled by the blatant rejection. In the same moment, Gran darted in front of Lyria defensively. His hand flew to his hip. A brilliant dagger flashed as he drew it from its sheath.

“Sandalphon.” Gran’s voice dropped low. 

He remained where he was.

“You’re not in danger. You’re among friends.”

Still he hissed, pulse roaring in his ears, body pulled taught like a bowstring ready to snap back. The smell of blood and fear stung his nose. His eyes constricted to pins, that sized up his aggressor. 

Fight or run.

Do or die.

Gran’s shoe shifted slowly across the smooth wooden floorboards kicking glass out of his way.

Gran, oh-

“I-” He realized what he was doing instantaneously, but still far too late. His senses returned to him. “Fuck- I mean, sorry, I-“ The words escaped him. 

Hesitantly, Gran sheathed his weapon, “It’s ok. It’s ok.” He inched his way forward cautiously until he was kneeling down next to Sandalphon, “It’s ok, you’re ok.”

No. He really wasn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really snapped and got this one done a few days after the last. Let’s keep this momentum going. I really do wonder where Gran got his Doctorate from. 
> 
> @_Hanged_Man_ on twitter


	8. Aberration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Better to push them both away now than have them suffer greater disappointment later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I very badly needed to stop looking at this and just post it, so here it is.

Gran knelt at eye level before him, white lab coat dragging on the floor among the debris. His expression remained calm and his breathing even as he studied Sandalphon closely. 

He was careful with his movements, always keeping just the right amount of space between the two of them so as not to unnerve the angel. It was the only indicator in his body language that suggested he’d been about to run Sandalphon through.

The captain did have a natural talent for remaining calm in difficult situations. It was impressive to see even if he was the perpetrator. 

Right, even now, he was still exacerbating the problem.

He let his wings fall back down to his sides and dropped the defensive stance he had been holding. Anything to try and appear less threatening to the two skyfarers.

Really, he had done it now. He probably looked like a mad man, beat to hell and back, crouching on the floor in nothing but his boxers.

All for what; to find Belial? What then? 

He wasn’t sure. 

More than anything else, he felt empty. The feeling had only multiplied since his encounter with the fallen angel and now he felt like he was drowning in it. Deep in his chest, his heart ached. A crushing pain held the struggling muscle in its grasp squeezing the very life from it. 

Something had to fill this gaping hole in him. He wanted to believe it was vengeance that would fill and patch it. 

No, it would. He had no room to second guess himself. 

“You’re ok, you’re alright.” Gran again. “Breathe.”

When had he started holding his breath? He let it out and then took another one in; letting his lung fill with the fresh air. 

In and out. In and out.

Again, he tried to ground himself against the bottomless pit that was self reflection. It was too easy to let the time slip by in his mind as he wallowed in his own self pity. In Pandemonium it had been the only thing he had to pass the innumerable hours on his own.

He looked around the room again, letting himself settle with a new found sense of clarity. The result of his outburst covered over everything.

The sheets of the bed had been thrown off in his attempted escape. The monitor stand that had once been connected to him by a pad now lay toppled over the empty neighboring bed. Feathers, both brown and white were just beginning to settle around them like a powdery snow fall. The brown were easy to identify as his, but the punctured feather pillow took a moment longer to find. 

Then, the worst of it was taken into account.

At some point in his short rampage, he’d broken Lyria’s gift. The container had shattered and its contents were now strew across the bed and ground. 

It had been the source of the previous loud noise and gave reason for the glass that now crunched under Gran’s white shoes. 

It also explained the sharp metallic smell that filled his nose. A bright red smear of blood streaked the floor where his foot had slid across the largest of the shards. Adrenaline had disconnected him from all painful sensation.

That is until now.

Now it returned to him tenfold.

He staggered forward as the ache returned to his limbs. The tired muscles in his thighs and arms burned from exertion; sharp pain shot up from the wounds on his feet. His knees hit the floor landing among the wreckage of Lyria’s shattered gift. Pain lanced through him where they connected with more glass shards.

“Sandalphon… your legs…” Lyria spoke; her gaze fell heavy on him.

He hadn’t missed it, the flash of fear in her eyes when he’d bolted and now, the guilt and despondence in her words.

Barbs of regret wound their way around his lungs pulling them tight inside the confines of his sore ribs. Every breath became a long painful shudder.

If anyone should have felt guilty in this situation, it was him. He wanted to tell her as much, but he felt his jaw lock in place and the words died in his throat.

No matter how valiantly he struggled, he couldn’t meet her eye.

Self mutilation, intentional or not, deserved no sympathy.

The purpose of her gift may have been lost on him, but it had meant something to her. She was a creature of connection and endless compassion, even in regards to him up until this point. But everyone had a limit to how much disappointment and scorn they would take; even her. She had to know by now that he was a lost cause.

Better to push them both away now than have them suffer greater disappointment later.

“Careful, you’re bleeding.” Gran’s voice tugged at him next.

That was at the very end of his list of present concerns and yet the two of them insisted on his acknowledgement of it. 

“I’m aware.”

Gran frowned as he studied Sandalphon for a moment longer. A long low sigh escaped him as he got to his feet. He shrugged the white lab coat off his shoulders and tossed it over one of the bedposts carelessly. 

“I’ll need to clean the new wounds and take the glass out to ensure that they heal properly.” Ever so practical. 

“Come, let’s get you to the bathroom.” The Captain tugged at the mask around his neck; adjusting the turquoise fabric until it sat comfortably below his jaw. “I’ll help you treat your wounds, and you’ll need a bath.” He stretched out a gloved hand to Sandalphon.

“I can stand on my own.” His stubbornness was what spoke rather than a realistic assessment of his current capability, and he knew it. Still the overly confident words slipped out before he could rescind them. 

He shifted his weakened legs around himself and brushed glass shards away from the ground in front of him. With the space clear, he set his palms on the floor and pushed himself up on wobbling limbs. He leaned onto the pads of his bleeding feet before taking hold of the bed frame to guide him to a standing position.

It was a struggle and far more trouble than it was worth to prove he could do it alone. The new wounds cried for the most attention, but the old aches were anything but quiet next to them.

As if noticing his discomfort, but too afraid to force his assistance, Gran hovered just within range of him. If he were to just lean forward and stretch out his hand, he would be able to catch the angel should he fall. 

It was a very practical reaction to the situation, but still, it irritated him.

Sandalphon shot him a fiery glare as he steadied himself on his feet. “I’m fine.” Carefully, he let go of the bed frame to test his balance.

He remained upright; a good sign. 

He took a shaky step in the direction of the washroom with the intention of proving his words. Immediately, he felt the sharp sting of glass dig into the bottom of his foot as it connected with the ground, pushing the shard deeper into his skin. He couldn’t stop the sharp exhalation of air that escaped through his teeth or the violent shake of his legs.

The Captain’s hand hovered just behind his back; afraid to touch him. “Please, let me help you.”He caught the Singularity’s pleading gaze and turned away from it. 

The look of sympathy burned him. 

He was not so weak as to be unable to go less than forty paces. “I can do this.”

“I know you can.” Gran did not hesitate, his response came immediately after Sandalphon’s words. There was no hint of a lie behind them, but rather they were spoken with a reluctant confidence. “But you don’t have to.”

A tense moment of silence stretched between them in the form of an unseen battle of wills.

It wasn’t in his nature to accept help for he had been burned by those he had once trusted. The singularity knew this, he even pitied him for it. So why did the two of them push so hard to break down the walls he’d so painstakingly constructed. 

He could do this alone, so then why did they insist?

Seeing the angel’s deeper internal struggle painted on his face, the captain let slip a small smile, “Humor me for a moment so that I can put some of this worry to rest.”

“Fine.” The word fought as it left his tongue, leaving slurred and garbled. Still, he didn’t wait to be certain that he’d been understood; he twisted back and grabbed The Singularity’s wrist.

Immediately, Gran stepped behind him and the hovering hand met the skin of his waist. All at once the shaking floor of the airship steadied. He shifted his weight to the back of his feet, off of his injury, earning him a tiny measure of relief.

“Lyria.” Gran’s calming voice could just be heard over his slowing breaths. “I can take it from here. Go, get some rest.”

The spotlight drifted away from him; away from the havoc that he’d wrought back to the girl in blue. Up until this moment, she had sat, near frozen in place on his hospital bed among fallen stars and sheets. Now, she looked up, her head tilting in the captain’s direction, taken aback by the sudden request. “A-are you sure? I’m not tired, I can help.”

“Lyria, you don’t have to push yourself. I know you’ve been up since yesterday, you must be exhausted.” Despite how firm his words were, his expression was gentle regarding her. 

“But Sandalphon- he-“ She rose to her knees, her hands working over each other as a mix of complex emotions became apparent in her voice.

“-will be ok. I’ve got him taken care of.”

All of their excessive worrying was going to make him sick on its own. They should have saved all these heavy emotions for someone who needed it more than him.

“We don’t need two patients on our hands right? Go, get some sleep.” There was a sense of finality to The Captain’s words.

Lyria’s expression formed into the most pathetic of childish pouts as she saw that she wouldn’t be getting her way. Her sparkling eyes grew and her lip quivered; the combination pleading with the captain to change his mind in one of the most underhanded of ways. 

To most living creatures with some level of sentience, this was bulletproof argument on its own. It was beyond humiliating to admit, but Sandalphon himself had fallen for this blatant trickery one too many times during his short stay on the Grandcypher. Next time Lyria approached with the intention of convincing him to join in on their crew game night, he planned to flee. It was much easier than refusing.

But Gran, it seemed, had far more experience in this matter. 

“Well, I think Sandalphon’s due for a bath, I guess you could help me-“ 

Sandalphon nearly choked on his spit; his grip on Gran’s wrist tightening at the suggestion of bathing with an audience. “No-“

The pouty expression slipped off her face. Lyria’s eyes widened and her cheeks dusted a light pink. “Oh no! That’s ok, never mind.” 

“De La Fille and Theresa are standing watch just outside, they can take you back to your room.”

Lyria hung her head in defeat knowing too well that she had been outplayed. “Ok... Let me know if you need anything.” She rose from where she sat and stepped off the mattress; swinging her legs off of the bed as she went. 

Two crew members stood outside? Were they acting as guards of some kind? That was strange. Since when had anyone been posted outside the infirmary except during battles that were staged from or on the ship’s deck? Maybe something big was just on the horizon? 

All the more reason for him not to spend another moment in here and take care of the situation with Belial.

“I will-” Gran assured her, but his focus was elsewhere as his eyes snapped back to the floor. “Lyria, where are your shoes?”

She grinned mischievously as she danced nimbly on bare feet around the shards of glass and paper stars that littered the floor. “I forgot ‘em.”

This must have been a reoccurring problem.

Gran huffed as he watched her move through the minefield and reach the door safely. “Honestly what am I supposed to do with you? If Katalina catches you…. just, don’t forget them next time.”

The girl in blue laughed as she reached the door, her demeanor entirely changed from what it had been a moment ago. “I won’t make a promise I can’t keep.”

“Be careful on your way back. You remember the signal right?” The Singularity grumbled after her. 

“Yup!” The door swung shut behind her.

With The Girl in Blue’s departure, the energy seemed to leave them. A cold breeze entered into the room through the open window, tossing light cotton curtains about as it came in. The chilling breeze sent a shiver down Sandalphon’s spine and threw a few of the paper stars around before they settled again. Gray clouds above reflected the mood below. 

Sandalphon started for the bathroom.

“Careful, the glass-“ Gran’s grip on him tightened.

“I see it.”

“The floor is dangerous. It would be better if I carried you.” Worry laced itself into his words.

His eyes flicked downward towards the glittering bloody shards that lay scattered about the floor. There weren’t any visible paths his torn up feet could safely tread. Flight might have been an option had there been a higher ceiling in the cramped infirmary suit. 

“Just… get it over with.” 

It was an awkward affair, being lifted up by another grown man; and in all honesty he didn’t do much to help. To his credit, he did dismiss his wings, but he stiffened like a board the moment the singularity grazed his bare skin.

Gran had once been far shorter than him, though now, with Sandalphon standing flat footed, it was clear that that was no longer the case. The singularity had grown taller and broader a since their first encounter two years prior. 

He stepped closer to him, adjusting his angle around the stiffened angel who made no move to help him. The small gap in their height became increasingly obvious with the proximity. Maybe it was time that Sandalphon got a higher pair of heels.

Gran gathered him up in his arms careful as was possible, cradling Sandalphon to his chest. A hand supported his back while another hooked underneath his legs. The position was far from comfortable, the back of his head was shoved into The Singularity’s armpit and his body pressed far too close to his, but it was much better than putting weight on the mangled bottoms of his feet.

“You don’t weigh very much for how much muscle you have.” The singularity noted clinically before he began to stride in the direction of the bathroom.

“Hollow flight bones.” He grunted back.

“Like a bird? They’re not just in your wings?”

“Don’t know.”

Whatever the reason, this sparked the captain’s interest. “I wonder how different the rest of your anatomy is from the other sky dwellers? Do the other archangels have similar make ups? I wonder how much Uriel weighs… Oh, that might be rude to ask. Do you know?”

He huffed in irritation, folding his arms into himself as they pushed through the bathroom door and entered the well lit room. “You’re asking the wrong person. Bother Michael with your badgering.”

As if sensing his rising temper, the line of questioning ceased. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry if it’s a sensitive topic.” He set Sandalphon down on the bathroom counter so that his legs dangled off.

“I have no issue discussing Primals, the only annoyance I take is with the questioner.”

Gran laughed lightly, “Ok, ok, point taken.” 

He removed a bag that hung from his shoulder and opened the small metal closure that was mounted on the front of it. His hand shifted around inside, searching, pulling out various tools. Some Sandalphon recognized, others he couldn’t fathom a use for. 

Once he’d gathered up all of the ones he needed, he returned the rest into the leather bag and set it down on the counter. He placed the ones he planned to use on a square of white linen that he unwrapped cautiously and set in front of the bag. After he was finished with those, another towel was unfolded and placed below the counter at Sandalphon’s feet.

Gran worked to set up his work space with practiced hands making the meticulous task of preparation look like second nature. Still, the work took all of his attention and pulled his focus away from the conversation.

Sandalphon watched him prepare with a level of moderate interest. “What is all of that for?”

Gran remained in his state of deep contemplation showing no sign that he’d heard him as he double- no triple checked his supplies.

Sandalphon made a noise of acknowledgement though he was beginning to wonder if Gran had gotten the wrong idea of what kind of wounds he had. It seemed as though he were preparing to amputate a limb with the amount and complexity of tools he had scattered about.

A moment too late for the stream of thought, Gran responded. “Just for taking out the glass.” 

“You have done this before right?”

“Of course.”

At least he sounded confident.

His eyes scanned over the wound cautiously before he reached over and grabbed a bottle of what appeared to be water. A thin nozzle protruded from the lid to assist with precise application. He tilted the bottle to let the water run down Sandalphon’s knees; washing away some of the blood, dirt, and loose shards from the wounds. The opaque red fluid dripped down his bare legs onto the white towel below staining it a bright crimson. He continued until no more of the shards would come free.

Sandalphon gritted his teeth as the water bit at the laceration. “This is wasted on me, I’ll heal on my own. You should save those supplies for someone who needs them more.”

Gran made a small meaningless noise as he grabbed for a pair of forceps and steadied the bottom of Sandalphon’s foot. He angled the tool carefully and began to slowly pull out an impressively large glass shard.

It was difficult to hold himself still as the jagged edges dragged against his broken skin. He let out a pained yelp and closed his eyes.

“You may regenerate, but if your skin heals over something like this could become trapped inside. It could cause you pain when you walk.” The singularity held up the translucent bloodied object to demonstrate his point more vividly. 

The glass was more than and inch in length.

He glanced away from it. It wasn’t the worst thing he’d been impaled with at least, not by a long shot, but the thought of trying to dance around the battlefield with that trapped inside his feet was enough to turn his stomach. 

“Then hurry and pull them out. Be done with it.” 

Still, it didn’t hurt near as bad as having his stolen wings torn back off of his back by their rightful owners. Nor as bad as when his left arm had been torn clean off by another primal during the rebellion. Certainly not worse than the wound he’d suffered at the hands of Lucifer’s sword.

Well, it wasn’t just his body that hurt after that.

Gauze was pressed down against the bottom of his foot and where the shard had been. After some time, The Singularity removed the gauze square, now soaked completely in blood and discarded it. He then reached into his bag and produced a jar of clear fluid, different than the first, that he soaking another piece of the white dressing with it.

Now that he thought about it, wasn’t it strange that The Captain had so much free time to spare on him. It wasn’t that The Girl in Blue and The Singularity were hard to get a moment with, in his opinion they took up too much of his time, but it always seemed like someone else was in need of them.

Presently, the captain remained here with him, doing a task any one of the healers could do unbothered by the rest of the crew. Compounding that with the discovery of crew members stationed outside, something felt off about the atmosphere. 

“Why were there guards outside?” A new square of the damp gauze was pressed to the wound and where it met the raw edges it stung.

“What guards?” His eyes didn’t leave his work, but The Captain was too honest for his own good. His voice raised noticeably, awkwardly around the syllables, sounding strange in his mouth.

A lie. So he was hiding something. Lyria’s odd behavior initially only reaffirmed the suspicion. “You’re mocking my intelligence.”

“I am not.” The steady nature of his voice was beginning to slip.

“Then stop avoiding my questions. Tell me instead, where are you keeping Belial?” It was more of a demand than a request.

“Sandalphon, can you hear yourself?”

“My ears are working just fine, are yours?”

The singularity pulled out another much smaller shard of glass and let it clink into a small plastic dish where the others had been placed. He set the forceps down before he spoke again. “Your concern with him is bordering on obsessive.” He was quiet, but his words were cutting.

“Obsessive?” He leaned forward, taken aback by the comment; offended if he was being entirely honest.

Gran looked uneasy as he discarded the rest of the used supplies. “Yes, obsessive. I’m worried, this behavior isn’t good for you.”

The laugh that escaped him visibly caught Gran by surprise. “Not good for me, Is this some sort of joke?” When the Singularity didn’t answer him he scoffed, “Did you see what he did to me? Do you expect me to be unconcerned?”

Gran’s eyes flicked nervously over the nasty bruises that covered Sandalphon from head to toe. Though he hadn’t told him explicitly what had happened the evidence was there. From Gran’s expression he could tell that some sort of conclusion had been drawn already. It didn’t matter which one he ended up at, in fact he wished that it didn’t wholly hit the mark.

“What you’re doing is self destructive.” The Singularity mumbled the words under his breath, just loud enough for the primarch to hear.

Sandalphon bit back a defensive comment. He couldn’t deny The Captain’s words, but he felt a strong bitterness towards them. So what if he hurt himself; that was his own business.

“The situation is under control. I won’t endanger the safety of my crew over a prematurely made decision again.” Gran straightened again, resigning himself to his decision. 

He took a deep breath in through his nose and then out through his mouth. So that’s what Gran thought of him as? A liability. A reckless variable that put all of them in danger because of his inadequacy. “I’m also concerned for the safety of the crew which is why he needs to be dealt with immediately.”

“Sandalphon. You’re a member of this crew too.” Gran’s voice softened and an earnest gaze met Sandalphon’s eyes.

He hated that look, despised it. 

“That’s still to be seen.” 

Don’t weigh yourself down with a liability, Singularity.

Gran paused, searching Sandalphon’s expression for something. Clearly, whatever it was, he didn’t find it there; his shoulders slumped and he averted his eyes.“Well, in the very least you’re staying on my crew’s ship and you are my patient for the time being. I think it’s best if you remain here in the infirmary until you’re well.”

“Is that an order?” Sandalphon gritted his teeth. 

The Captain shot him a pained look and then he nodded, slowly, and stood; discarding his gloves with the rest of the bloodied materials.

So he was to be held here against his will? 

The Singularity could try.

He had already served more than enough time behind bars. The fragile walls of this luxurious cage, gilded with hollow words, were not daunting to him in the least. He’d escaped from a prison cell far more merciless than this one here.

Imprisonment would only make his desire for revenge burn hotter. He could temper it like a blade and wait for the opportune moment to strike.

He knew how to play his cards right.

“The wounds on your feet have already started to close up on the surface. Do you think you can stand on them?” Gran dropped the topic outright.

So that’s how it was going to be.

He didn’t answer, but instead pushed his weight onto his feet and stood as asked. It hurt like hell, but already he could feel himself adapting to the discomfort as his body pushed itself through the repairs. 

Gran’s ever watchful eye followed his movements almost making him feel self conscious. The Captain reached out, skimming a bare hand over the healing surface of his arm. “It looks like your skin has closed up everywhere else so you should be alright to bathe, just be careful and make sure you don’t bend too much and keep off your feet while in the tub.”

He stood on his tip toes and looked at the top of the angel’s head, “Also, try to be gentle when washing your hair. You had a pretty nasty head wound. It looks like it’s mostly healed, but the skin might still be fragile.”

Another wound he couldn’t recall receiving.

Gran finally moved to his neck, “This wound is a little different from the others. As far as I can tell, you don’t scar easily, but somehow, this one on your neck did despite my best efforts to keep it clean.”

Gran’s touch stopped at his neck, his hand tracing the outline of the injury in question. Warmth spread from Gran’s fingertips curling deeper into his skin.

“Yes, that one is… different.” He frowned, his mind drawing him elsewhere.

The captain bit his lip, white teeth peeking out of gently parted lips. “How so?” His voice betrayed his intrigue. 

His other hand moved to rest on Sandalphon’s shoulder, the same energy sparking there beneath his skin. 

Sandalphon’s heart pounded as he focused his gaze on that mouth. It was framed by narrow jaw, full cheeks, and a small pointed nose. His lips looked like they’d be soft, like they’d feel good pressed against his. Maybe they’d feel even better mouthing against his neck, placing soft kisses on his hips, around his-

“Sandalphon? Are you alright?” Gran cocked his head to the side.

His face colored a bright red as he realized where his thoughts had drifted. Unable to think quick enough, he scowled.

“I’m fine. Stop asking.” He reached up to grab Gran’s wrist and pulled it off of him. “If you keep worrying like that you’ll start going grey.”

“Are you sure you don’t need help bathing?”

“I’m not so feeble as to need help washing myself.” He turned his head away.

Gran shook his head, “Okay, I have clean clothes waiting for you in cabinet next to the sink for when you get out. Don’t turn the water on too hot; the heat could make you lightheaded.”

“It’s just a bath, I’ll manage.” His skin was heating up rapidly.

“Keep that mindset and you’ll only prolong your healing time.” The singularity lectured, but he packed up his things as he did. “Don’t fill the bath too much and don’t lock the door. I’ll be around to check on you every so often to be sure you’re ok.”

“I’ll be fine, just go.” Far too blunt, far too obvious. 

Gran slung his bag back over his shoulder and looked the angel back up and down. “Please. Try not to hurt yourself.”

Sandalphon shut the door behind him far too quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your kind comments keep me going, I really appreciate when you take a moment to say anything. It’s wonderful and really helps me figure out if I’m getting what I want to say across \o/ thank you for what you’ve sent me up until now!!
> 
> @_Hanged_Man_ on twitter


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